#also for all of these doodles I was just shaking and crying so hard because I couldn’t keep her eyebrows her big raindrop eyebrows are like

[arolesbianism]

Trembles like a small dog. Places down my loopified euphrasie design before skittering away

[livelaughlovesubs]

HI NINIII i know i havent been back in a while but i saw your event post, could i request 'forcing them to beg' and 'mocking them for involuntary reactions' with my beloved poet poe

and if you're feeling extra generous maybe throw in some nice aftercare because im a soft dom deep down 💕

-🫶

Hey heyyyy!! Welcome back 🫶 anon :D glad to see you hehe. One Poe request? Right away~

Dom!reader x sub!poe - reader is gn

Warning: teasing, begging, light degration?

Anniversary event

What a sly thing you were.

Sneaking up on him while he was brainstorming for new ideas to add to his novel. You couldn’t help it, he was too adorable to resist. Sitting at his desk, head in the clouds while he tightly clenched his fountain pen. When you were close enough, standing right behind him, you glanced over his shoulder to see him doodling down random notes. Despite how close you were, he still hadn’t acknowledged your presence. How concentrated he was~

Which is why you leaned forward, to whisper into his ear, “Poe~”. The boy jumped immediately, shrieking like a kitten as he turned to look at you. His pen made a ‘thud’ sound as it hit the floor, and he rushed to pick it up, “uuahh..! Y-y/n? Ah- w-wait..” He bend over as he reached for it, and since he was presenting you with such an opportunity you just had to strike.

Wrapping your arms around his body, feeling him shudder due to your touch.

“Heh, so sensitive aren’t you?” You teased while he was still bend over, now hesitating to slump back into his seat. “Y/n… t-that’s not…” He began, but stopped midway. “not what?” You heard him gulp loudly before he answered meekly, “not true.”

“Are you sure about that?” A fun idea popped up, and you began massaging his sore shoulders. You pressed down on the cramped muscles, hands skilfully kneading him. His posture is bad, that’s why his neck’s almost always cramped. Once again he yelped, making you chuckle softly. “Because if not, why are you whimpering like a girl?”

You knew he was blushing, even if you couldn’t see his face. The quivering of his body was also a sign of it.

“It’s because you are touching m-me..” Poe managed to squeeze out, but he knew from the beginning he couldn’t win against you. “Oh? So it’s my touch that makes you all sensitive? Not because you’re a lewd boy?” How were you expecting him to not get flustered when you were using that tone, all while tracing one hand down his spine? And using the your other hand to brush your fingertips across his chest?

Seeing him all speechless was cute, but not fun. You wanted to make him cry out and beg, to plead like how you taught him. That’s why you tugged his hair behind his ear and blew hot air against the reddening shell. “Ngh…!” He tried so hard to muffle that moan, knowing you’d mock him for it, but it was all in vain.

“Will you admit how perverted your body is now, Poe?” You rested your chin on his shoulder, both hands now travelling up and down his body in a sickening slow motion. “I-I..” he stuttered, stumbling over his words. “You what?” The feeling of your breath tickling his skin got him squirming around all crudely, it made him want to curl up into a ball and disappear.

While your eyes scanned his body, noticing his crotch, seeing his reacting to your relentless teasing, you smirked again, “Haha~ how perverted indeed. You are a dirty, dirty boy Poe.” He shuddered, shaking all over as he whined, head turning minimal to look at you. “Don’t just stare, use your pretty little mouth.” You demanded, still groping him all over, enjoying the reactions of his body.

“P-please..” He begged, though too embarrassed to continue his request. “Go on, tell me.” You reassured him, playing with the jungle of hair on his head. “T-touch me more.” Poe eventually mumbled, and he instantly regretted it, too ashamed of his own desires. On the other hand, you scoffed at him, “c’mon sweetheart, you can beg better than that.”

Yes, maybe, but no. He has a way with words, only when he writes them down not when voicing them! “Y-y/n..!” He called to your name, too humiliated to obey your orders, even though he wanted to be your good boy so bad. “Acting cute won’t help now.” You reminded him. Defeated, he quickly gazed over his shoulder, tears already forming in his eyes as he whispered a sweet plead, “t-touch me.. a lot, please, I-i beg you..”

What a cute thing he was.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König of the Icks (the rage post)

This is the post where I actually got mad at König. I can't stand people like this, but I also love them. If nothing else, life's always interesting when they're around, right?

Art from This Post

König rarely laughs. When he does laugh, it's usually quiet, subtle. If you didn't know he was laughing, you'd probably think he was crying because he just shakes his shoulders and makes soft chuffing noises

It's a bit eerie

However, when König loses control of his laughter, he sounds like a whole damn pigsty

He's snorting, squealing and honking as he tilts his head back with laughter. He laughs so hard he cries

This would be cute if it weren't almost always at the expense of somebody else.

Horangi had the misfortune of hearing it when König tipped all his belongings upside down and then taped and/or glued them to the ceiling. This included Horangi's bed and sheets.

Hutch nearly threw out a computer mouse until he found a piece of tape covering the bottom.

Roze swears she heard König laughing when she found her entire locker filled to the brim with tiny rubber ducks

The rubber ducks became a huge problem with soldiers trading them like contraband and hiding them in weird places around the base

This concluded with snipers using them for firing practise and laughing when they squealed when they were shot, making it to easy to find their hiding spots

Unfortunately for Stilleto, she heard König's laugh when she walked through a line of tape over a door and got it tangled in her hair. She figured out which recruits did it and had them running laps. When they were done, one of them admitted it was Cnl. Leichenberg who set them up and she was furious

See, König loves to set other people up to do his dirty work

He'll gladly set up soldiers to piss other people off so he can watch the fireworks fly

He'll purposefully hold off on doling out a punishment if he thinks it'll be funny to watch shit go south first

He's well known on base as a through and through sadist who relishes in schadenfreude

Hell, he's the one to teach everyone what that word meant

He's the literal dictionary definition of the word

Now, the problem is that König isn't just a kinky sadist (he is, but that's a different post)

König loves to torment anyone he loves. And of course, that includes you

König won't put things on the top shelf, he'll put them on top of the cabinet so you'll have to ask for his help because not even the stool will help you reach that high

He'll doodle over any picture you have of him to 'hide his identity'

He just likes messing with you

He torments his children with wicked pranks and gaslights them terribly

When his toddler offers him a bite of their animal cracker he eats the whole thing and laughs at them

He will absolutely label three objects 1, 2, and 4 so you'll go searching for #3

He will sit on you when he gets mad at you, or when you get mad at him because, well, this is the two of you (and he will do this to you and laugh):

His worst sin was childproofing the house without your knowledge. Ever had a fully childproofed house? If you're not the one installing it, it's an ugly thing to find

He will shift furniture just a little bit to the right or left to screw with you if you finish off his breakfast meals and don't replace them immediately

König takes delight in leaving you cryptid notes (you've learned to ignore the ominous threats because they always turn out to be something completely innocuous)

König is a nightmare of a man to live with. Is it fun? Sure! Is he a menace? Absolutely. He's got a penchant for mischief, and he's used to getting away with it because he's either got the reputation of a battle-hardened colonel that demands respect when he steps into a room, or the soft-spoken gentleman that would never raise his voice against a civilian. This just means he has the perfect fallback for whenever somebody accuses him of being a miscreant. In truth, he's most likely behind it, but the true extent of how many thing's he's behind is terrifying. This man fucks with people as a hobby.

Konig Dump

Konig Headcanons

[softshrimpy]

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 16: Vulnerability

Summary: Working at the Weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

It's been a rough two weeks and I craved Larissa comfort. So enjoy! 🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond @gela123 @i-like-reading @hopelessly-sapphic @alder-saan @im-a-carnivorous-plant @weemssapphic @barbarasstar

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 15

Cross Posted on AO3 Here

HWTAHP Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------------

Larissa was busy. Which was fine! And understandable considering all the antics Wednesday has been up to recently. Her dedication to finding the monster that had attacked you was sweet, a little insane, but sweet. However, the way in which she was trying to find it was…unorthodox to say the least.

She had asked you almost a hundred different questions about the night you were attacked, not that you remembered much of use anyway. All you could remember was that you were in the woods (how far from the school you didn’t know), you had been crying so hard you hadn’t heard anything and that Marilyn had showed up very shortly after you were attacked…

Which was bothering you for two reasons. One was that if she had been close enough to be there right after you were attacked, why didn’t the monster attack her? Wednesday had hypothesized(her term not yours) that the monster had probably gotten spooked by a second person. It still didn’t sit right with you though.

And the second reason was that you had barely seen Marilyn since you were brought back to Nevermore. She had popped in briefly when you were unpacking to say hi and say she was glad you were doing better and then all but disappeared off the face of the planet. You know the two of you weren’t all that close but you honestly thought you’d at least see her around a bit.

You knew her and Larissa were close, she had told you about the long chats over many glasses of wine and their morning coffees together. And the two of them hadn’t stopped hanging out, not until Larissa went into full crisis(Wednesday) management mode. And it’s not like you spent all your time holes up in your room (anymore, not that Vlad allowed it in the first place). And with all the fucking walking around the Nevermore campus you were doing you really did not understand why you hadn’t seen her at least once.

So you decided you would try and find her today. Partially because, yes, you were lonely. But also because you wanted to thank her properly for saving your life. So you set out to find the funky lil redhead, vowing to yourself that you would find her before the end of the day.

Surprisingly she was in the first place you checked; the greenhouse. This did make you wonder if you were imagining her avoiding you. She was on the phone when you entered. She seemed to be in the middle of a heated argument with someone, hand gesturing wildly as she whisper-yelled at whoever it was she was speaking with. You stood awkwardly at the door, trying to figure out if you should stay or go.

Before you can make a decision the phone call is over and she's angrily sighing and shaking her head. You knock on the closed door behind you, hoping to announce your presence properly before stepping further into the greenhouse. At the sound she turns, rather swiftly. The look on her face goes from proper anger to shock, then to something you can’t name before swinging back around to anger again. You don’t even have a moment to open your mouth before she storms over to you, poking your chest with her finger.

“You! You just- you had to- and now I- UGH!” She groans, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Marilyn…?” You mumble, staring at her, confused as fuck.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t know why I-“ she tries, stopping when her voice cracks.

She looks moments away from bursting into full-blown sobs. Her eyes are wet with unshed tears and her lower lip is trembling. She opens her mouth to speak again but you wrap your arms around her, enveloping the small woman in a hug. She does burst into tears then, hugging you back while burying her face in your neck. You pat her back, doing your best to soothe her.

She calms eventually, her cries dissolving into the occasional hiccup. She takes a step back from you, wiping at her eyes and letting out a shaky breath.

“Sorry..” she smiles, “I don’t-you shouldn’t have had to deal with that I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. Are you okay though?” You ask.

She nods and sniffs, shooting you what you assume is meant to be a reassuring smile. You smile back at her, squeezing her shoulders.

“I’m fine, I mean I will be fine. Sorry. Is there- can I do anything for you?” She offers.

“I actually just uh wanted to chat to you. And thank you properly for you know saving my life and all.”

“Really you shouldn’t thank me. It was the least I could do…” her face falls for a second before she smiles, “Is there anything else? Sorry, I’ve got uhm-I have to head into town to pick up a plant delivery.”

“Oh…oh no. It’s- no it’s cool! I’ll just- I’ll leave you to it then,” you murmur.

You say your goodbyes, feeling a bit better when Marilyn suggests you get coffee sometime. When you leave the greenhouse you stand dumbly for a bit, trying to figure out what to do now. You figure it would be best to go back to your room. Your mood can’t get that much worse just by vibing in your room.

———

Apparently, it could get worse. Much worse.

As it turns out dissociating in your room actually made you feel so much worse. You had ended up staring blankly at the really nice window you had while thinking back on all the ways life had gotten so fucked in the last few weeks. And then you ended up thinking about how your life had been fucked up the whole time. Which was a super fun little exercise to be doing before a physio session with Vlad.

And really Vlad was so sweet, really. So kind. However you felt like utter shit and he was making you do all these stupid, painful stretches that were making your scars and body ache. Which when combined with your already shit mental state leads to a rather terrible outburst.

“Come on kiddo just a few more of these,” he encourages you.

“I can’t.” You huff, wincing at the pain in your stomach.

“Sure you can kiddo. It’s just three more you got this-“

“No I fucking don’t! So can you just fucking let me breathe?!” You yell.

“Alright, let’s take a breath then-“

“No that’s not going to fucking help! Nothing is going to fucking help because things are just fucking fucked!” You end up kicking the nearest thing which just so happens to be a wall.

Which is how you end up sitting in the infirmary with a fucked foot and a dent in the wall you had taken your frustration out on. Turns out the vampire strength did not save your bones from being obliterated by concrete. The nurse had been very sweet, wrapping your foot and sending you on your way. Vlad had helped you back to your room, not asking any questions and leaving you with a simple ‘call if you need anything.’

And so you lay on your bed, frustrated and angry and hurt. You feel tears welling up in your eyes and get even more frustrated if that’s even possible. Part of you knows you’re just having a bad day, that these feelings will pass and you’ll be okay. But another, louder part of you says this is how things will always be.

That’s how Larissa finds you, laying on your back on your bed, foot wrapped in a lovely bandage, crying your eyes out. She silently takes off her heels, padding over to your bed and sitting herself next to you. She brushes some hair out of your face, smiling down at you.

“I hear you’re going around destroying property.” She hums.

“I’m sorry, I can- I can get it fixed and pay for the damage I-“

“Darling, I’m certain your toe suffered more damage than the wall. And even if you destroyed a wall you would never have to pay for it.” She reassured you, brushing the tears from your cheeks gently. “How’s your foot?”

“It’s fine, I was being ridiculous.” You grumble.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she frowns, “do you want to talk about it?”

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. You shrug, biting your lip as you sniffle.

“It’s fine I’m-I’ll be fine,” you croak.

“Talk to me darling,” she murmurs.

“I…” you try, not really sure where to start, “I don’t know I’m just…I just feel like- I just- everything is so overwhelming at the moment. I just- I feel like I’m drowning.”

Larissa taps your arm, gesturing for you to sit up. You do, a bit confused. You feel your heart melt when she shuffles behind you, pulling you to lie back against her. She wraps her arms around your stomach, squeezing you gently and pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

“Go on sweetheart,” she murmurs.

“I just-my whole life has been like flipped upside down. I mean I-I almost fucking died and-and then oh no wait I didn’t because it turns out I’m a vampire! Which is- I mean it’s really cool! And I’m not- I’m not upset or anything but…but my parents hid it from me my- my whole life and I-how am I supposed to feel about that? And my father is all high and mighty about it, pulling the ‘I was doing what was best for the family’ crap. And I can’t even fucking ask my mom about it because she’s-“

Your crying restarts in earnest then. You hide your face in your hands. Larissa holds you tighter, whispering soothing gentle words into your hair. She doesn’t ask any questions, simply holds you as you cry and reassures you that everything will be alright. It’s nice that you can just be with her, that she doesn’t expect anything from you. When you’ve calmed enough to speak again you continue.

“I can’t ask her about it because she’s dead. And she’s been dead for years and it still. I mean I went to therapy for it at the time. And I-it helped. But I-I keep wondering if- if she knew? If she- I mean she probably helped keep it a secret from me but…did she feel the way my dad does? Did she hate who I am too? Would she think I’m a monster?”

You sink further into Larissa’s embrace, grasping her hands with with of yours as you breathe shakily. She shuffles a bit, squeezing you again before she speaks.

“Your father is an idiot and a bastard for the way he treated you,” she whispers, “and I never knew your mother, so I won’t claim to know how she would feel. However, I do know you. And you are one of the kindest, most accepting, most lovely people I’ve ever met in my life. You’re always looking out for others, you’re always trying to help people. There’s nothing even remotely monstrous about you, my love.”

“You thought I was a monster though…” you mumble, bracing yourself for anger.

“I did,” she sighs shakily, resting her chin on your head, “and I-I can’t apologize enough for that. I need you to know that what I said, had nothing to do with who you are. I was-I took out my anger and fear on you. You’re not-there is absolutely nothing monstrous about you darling. And I will spend every moment of every day for the rest of my life trying to show you that.”

Your breath hitches at the sincerity in her voice. You awkwardly manoeuvre yourself to sit sideways between her legs, your foot preventing you from turning around completely. You stare up at her from where your head is resting against her arm, pouting and probably looking like a mess. But Larissa just smiles down at you, her face filled with so much love and adoration you feel the weight on your chest ease a little.

“I’m sorry-“ you start only to be interrupted when Larissa presses a finger to your lips.

“None of that now,” she chides, “you don’t need to apologize for feeling things. I’m so- I cannot express how much it means to me that you shared that with me. I know that one conversation isn’t going to solve your problems, but I promise I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. You know you can call me whenever you need alright?”

“But what if you’re busy I don’t want to bother you…”

“Nothing is more important than you darling.”

She says it with so much authority and sincerity that you genuinely forget how to breathe for a moment. She brushes a few more tears from your cheeks before kissing your forehead. It’s a bit awkward with the way you’re positioned. She chuckles at the noise of protest you let out when she adjusts the way she’s sitting.

“How about we go back to my quarters, get changed into more comfortable clothes and order some takeout? How does that sound darling?” She suggests.

“I-you don’t have to go through so much trouble for me Rissa.”

“I know I don’t. How about you let me anyway?” She grins.

Honestly, you don’t know what to say to that, and her cute grin makes your brain malfunction. So you nod up at her, your face flushing as she escorts you to her room.

And as you sit cuddled up to her later that evening, with her tracing abstract shapes on your arms, you truly feel like everything will be okay.

[daveyfvckingjacobs]

I’m having modern au Javey thoughts. Specifically ones about how their respective neurodivergencies would present themselves becauee mine has been autisming way too hard recently 💅

(is neurodivergencies a word? 😂) - 🤠anon

ok I’m gonna do my best to answer this coherently but I am unbelievably eepy and a little buzzed still I will not lie so let’s see how it goes

adhd + dyslexic jack and autistic davey my favs so I’m going with that for my rambles but pls add if you have any other hcs🤲

davey is semi verbal, usually going completely silent when he’s burnt out socially or mentally and just needs a break. sarah and les are both very good at recognising this and speaking up for him, and also not pressing when he wants to be left alone. he has a lot of sensory issues regarding texture: napkins, toilet paper, styrofoam, cotton, that sort of thing (usually making his skin crawl and possibly making him gag a little) and also things scraping over his nails/the length of them. sound wise crowds of can be a lot, and he has ear defenders he likes to carry. most of davey’s stims are physical, hand flapping and lightly smacking things when it’s positive, shaking his head or fists when negative, and shifting his weight a lot. he will usually sit with one of his legs caught under him on most chairs, and stands with the most Dinosaur Hands a lot (jack says they make him look like an otter). he’s very sensitive to light touches but likes a lot of pressure (les also likes providing this so it works). eye contact isn’t the best and he struggles with instructions without a lot of prompting, though is usually alright with stuff like sarcasm and idioms, even if he can’t really carry conversations. his meltdowns are typically silent, crying and becoming extremely frustrated, but he’s more likely to have sensory overload than a meltdown (he hates them, despite being told over and over again that they’re normal and not irrational or stupid)

jack gets Loud when he’s understimulated, tapping his hands and feet and stimming vocally via random sounds a lot (he’ll bounce of race with humming and other noises too). he wears headphones almost 24/7 because he absolutely hates silence, and doodles all over his hands most days in school. he’ll also regularly hyperfixate on different types of art medium, so has a very messy range of skill across a huge range that he’ll inevitably drop in favour of yee old faithful sketches and oil paint. he’s a very stereotypical adhd kid in a lot of ways, and dyslexic to the point it takes a lot of encouragement to get him to properly read things. it’s not impossible for him, but the effort and concentration takes it out of him: he’ll rather take his drawings where he can zone out thank you very much

davey was diagnosed very young and so has gotten a lot of support, is very comfortable with and knows how to deal with his autism, though will usually struggle to bring it up to people at first. it leaves him awkward about acquiring accommodations but les and sarah are more than happy to pipe up and ask (and later, so are the newsies). on the other hand, jacks dyslexia was diagnosed young but his adhd went unnoticed until he was around 14, bounced around as he was. it means he still isn’t sure how to properly deal with it and gets frustrated in ways davey doesn’t, at what he lost struggling in school for example, because he didn’t have the right support around him yet

see previous javey rambles about how they’re both very good at learning what the other needs, how to help or when to not. it’s a slow process of picking things up but they balance each other well

[justaturtleindisguise]

I just found your Artemisia post and i absolutely need more info on the girlie. She has my heart!!!

Some prompts if you need inspo:

She loves bugs, but would she eat a bug? Did she try as a little kid maybe?

When she is older, does she learn to control the gravity aspect better? If she masters it eventually, does she go on flights with donnie as quality time???

Her nickname is artsie literally, has she tried to draw or otherwise be... artsy? If she did wll, does she bond through that with mikey? If she is baadddd then how did her bros console her? How did mikey specifically comfort her? (I need more mikey and lil sister)

You can answer these as text or maybe take one and draw a like a lil doodle 👀 ? Anything you give me will be tasty tasty meal. Ty for feeding me ^^

-@lunya-lunacy though my main bc I am too lazy to switch accounts just to leave an ask.

Heheheee I'm so glad you like my baby girl !!! :D

I'll give two answers for each question, because both Artsies are very different from each other :]

She loves bugs, but would she eat a bug? Did she try as a little kid maybe?

12!Artemísia definitely would eat a bug. She's absolutelly facinated with them because she never saw anything like bugs before and will admire them like they're sparkly glass marbles, but she's also very impulsive and likes to chew on stuff to try new textures, so eating a bug is not off her list- I like to imagine Raph seeing her happily chewing on something and then he notices is a goddamn ROACH and he absolutely panics and starts trying to make her spit it like she's a puppy chewing on plastic, like, "Oh no no no, spit it out for the love of GOD, THIS ISN'T GOOD FOR YOU-"

As for Rise!Artemísia, I don't think she'd even dream of eating a bug- Her interest and facination about bugs is more delicate (and nerdy) than her counterpart. She keeps entire ant colonies and spiders in glass terrariums and she takes care of them very attently. She names all her bugs and gets extremelly attached to them, and she's also a very picky eater. She'd see Raph snacking on a beatle and imediatelly start to cry her eyes out lmao-

When she is older, does she learn to control the gravity aspect better? If she masters it eventually, does she go on flights with donnie as quality time???

Flying is very hard for her, I think that even as a adult she'd struggle a little. But Artsie is good at finding the best parts of things and making them her streight, so instead of using her mystic gravity to go up, she'd start using it to press down. Make her punches heavier, to press her enemies against the ground and be more grounded during fights, the flying part working more like a way of traveling around or to make battles more favorable to her to avoid being attacked. Her and Donnie would absolutelly bond about it too, like to imagine them being the absolutelly chaos beans they are and testing her gravity control to the max and bending increasingly stronger materials like tin cans.

Her nickname is artsie literally, has she tried to draw or otherwise be... artsy? If she did wll, does she bond through that with mikey? If she is baadddd then how did her bros console her? How did mikey specifically comfort her? (I need more mikey and lil sister)

Rise!Artsie is not so good at material art like drawing/sculpting/sewing, but she's very good at musical art! She can play the guitar, the drums and the piano. I see Artie playing songs with her guitar and shaking her bow-mask like she's in a rock show while Mikey sings. They're so noisy and silly /aff She wouldn't let Mikey do things like paint on her shell tho, because is made out of cartilage and it's very sensible, but she'll watch him painting their brother's shells and giving lil ideas. When she feels sad she gets very snappy with everyone and doesn't like to talk a lot, so Mikey being the responsible big brother he is, makes her silent company, some times he makes her a lil snack or they turtle-pile until she feels like opening up to him.

12!Artsie is not much of an artist. She draws and doodles together with writing to express feelings to her family, but she's still learning to put things together. Mikey is absolutelly delightful everytime she draws something anyways and will show whatever it is to everyone. He's very excited to be a big brother for the first time in his life and he absolutelly loves that lil turtle kid. They do basically the same thing (as Rise) when she's feeling bad about something, but Mikey is still learning how to be a silent companion (under the threat of having his finger bitten off during Artzy's outbursts). Still a lot of trial and error, but he's getting the gists of being a big bro :)

Thank u for all the questions, it always makes me so happy to answer stuff about my characters !! /gen I'd draw some silly doodles to follow my answers too but is 6AM and I'm in the bus to school KAJSKA ;u;

[blazeismyname]

AGHHH, STAY SAFEE PLEASEEE!!!! CARMILLA ISNT RWADY TO MAKE YOU A MECH YET!!!!! (Trynna stay ligh hearted but for real, stay safe!)

Also! Will be making a Master do as soon as possible since this thread is a mess! It will most likely be started around next week, before I start the actual writing (for clarity for myself and others who are desperately trying to keep track of this thread LMAO-)

I screamed like, multiple times throughout your post and have started literally growling when I get excited thinking about this btw, it's getting insane.

ANYWAYS!!! TOO MY IDIOT RANTS!

OHMIGOSH- Everyone being from different places in Europe all forming together at this castle... it leans so hard into the vibrant cast and misfit vibes they're giving off while also being kinda parallel to canon with all the Mechs being from different parts of space!!!! I'm consuming them allll.... Jonny and Nastya have to be adopted then because I refuse to think about French Jonny-

UGH AND CARMILLA THREATENING MAMA BEAR ON ANYONE WHO THINKS BRIAN BEING ODD IS BAD... IM FALLING TO ME KNEES AND SLAMMING THE GROUND AND SOBBING.... AND LIKE, THE IDEA OF AN OFF HANDED, "Grab me the wrech rust head." IS KILLINF ME- AND ALSO HER THREATENINF MARIUS BUT AINCE BRIAN IS SO KIND AND EVERYTHING HE JUST SHAKES HIS HEAD LIKE "Mama, please don't hurt anyone"

AGH, YOU PUT THEIR WHOLE RELATIONSHIP INTO WORDS BETTER AGHHH

TAHNKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU FOR COMPLIMWNTING MY WRITING, ILL GO INTO IN A BIT, BUT IT MEANS EVERYTHING

Agahgahghagagaggagghggg, Nastya telling Jonny sorry and tucks the rose.. Gravels and sobs... Carmilla probably hesitating from upstairs... Ugh, and Jonny feeling betrayed (he's not being betrayed, this is literally for the best) and he probably acted horribly to her after she does hee silly little magic glow (I LOVED THAT PART BTW)

UGH- AND BRIAN GETTING AUDITORY SENSORY OVERLOAD... GROWLS!!! It also makes me think about him mayhe having some physical sensory issues? Like, he's been through a lot of physical through, so maybe, even if his skin is now metal, he's more prone to shutting down with too much feelings or at certain feelings? Idk, just a thought

AND YES, BRIAN HELPING JONNY EITH HIS SENSORY ISSUES... THE AUTISTIC MEN......... UGHH...........

AND ALL FOURS JONNY HES JUST AGHHH... WHEN BRIAN MAKES IT TO THE ROSE (maybe, on a second thought, it's been a good time, and Aurora kinda guides him to it to show him how little time there is (its doesnt come acrosss sadly)) AND JONNY FINDS HIM AND GETS ON ALL FOURS.. ANGRILY GROWLING AND BRIAN FALLS TO THE GROUND, STSRTING TO CRY AS JONNY CLAWS FORWARD, SCREAMING AND YELLING!!!@ AND ALSO ITD REALLY HIT BRIAN IN THE TRAUMA- this is um... derailed from the all fours

Marius would absolutely. And somehow nobody notices until Lyf... Marius is bragging about his height, and Lyf is like, "Bastard, you are wearing shoes that are half your height to be taller. Nu uh."

UGH, AND THE SILLY CONFESSIONS!!! GROWLS-

Also, consider the garden being overruned until Brian comes along and fixes it because gardening Brian... ahgghgahdhbdnem

OH UH. I WAS SINGING LOST IN THE COSMOS AND HAD AN IDEA.. I CAN BARELY REMEMBER BUT I THINK IT HAD TO DO WITH HIM BEING LONELY. ILL EXXPAMD ON THAT LATER SINCE I FORGOR AND ITS GETTING LATE

Also, not talking about anything... Just want to say thank yall for putting up with my annoying autistic ass and every time you compliment my writing, it makes me feel so good. I have a kinda trauma (idk if it's really that??? It might be) with people I trusted going behind my back and calling my writing shit and to hear unbiased people say it's good makes me so fuckin happy... This whole thread also makes me feel part of something really fun and good and I'm so proud of everyone who contributed hehe

Anyways. Thanks. I'm gonna go post some doodles and get back to writinngggg

Beauty and the Beast, but it's the Mechanisms.

Jonny must be the beast because feral Jonny and the whole heart thing... prove me wrong.

Tim or Brian is Belle.

Rest of the Mechs are the servants in the Beast's house. With an exception for Marius as Gaston cause I can totally fucking see it. He would suck at it though because it's Marius. And also, short Marius HC.

This is probably not new. But it's been brewing in my head for a good few months, ever since I put my Mechs OC in the iconic Belle dress.

[tartagilicious]

marius von hagen relationship headcanons // requested by anon 🍇

tysm for all of the recent attention on my artem piece, it was very very heartwarming to see all of your comments and i’m so glad you all liked it! i’m happy that this game is doing so well so far and that i finally have the opportunity to write for it! anyways, ty for this request anon, i am so in love with this man LMAO

- the circumstances between you are strange to say the least: you viewed him very differently from the way he did you at first, and the ceo at one point definitely thought you were out of his league. but after working together, after witnessing marius' skilled nature, his unfaltering smooth talk, and most of all, his overwhelming concern for you — it was safe to say you’d fallen hard.

- being on equal footing in each other’s eyes was a fairly easy thing to obtain. you’re able to see the other’s true nature in the midst of NXX investigations, and when working together, your strengths and weaknesses are out in the open. any insecurity or doubt towards the other, status related or otherwise, is cleared once you realise how much you truly click.

- you have the brains and the materials you need to do good with your thoughts, and he has the corporate strength and personal intelligence to get you further than you could ever go otherwise. in short, your skillsets mould together into one quite easily. he points this out every so often after something goes well, sporting a trademark grin. and every time, you might inevitably shake your head, but you can’t help but smile along.

- you aren’t really an extravagant person, and are seldom impressed by big displays of spending. but, coming from him, it’s a bit different — marius loves to spoil you in even the tiniest ways. that being said, his love language is definitely gift giving. since you don’t care for trends much, he takes his time to learn the things you either need or have your eyes on. this means you end up with a lot of niche belongings and/or out of place items. you don’t mind, though, if anything it’s just a reminder of him.

- he is your biggest hypeman in everything possible — he knows the struggle of not being able to pursue your true dreams, so every hobby you have that you’re skilled in is something that he’ll be sure to pay attention to and support you on.

- keeps the more expensive versions of your daily products in his bathroom for when you stay over

- protects you from press with a VENGEANCE. remember that one scene where a reporter tries to get all up in your face and he takes the mic and says something in your defence to the station? those vibes. he’ll never let someone undermine your accomplishments, especially if he’s seen you work extremely hard on that said thing? like no.

- he also feels bad that because of his identity you’re subjected to a lot more attention than you would normally be. says this to you and constantly apologises when relevant, even if you always say it doesn’t matter. because your comfort matters to him :(

- his favourite type of date to take you on is picnics!! loves the prep that he can do himself and share with you, and seeing you against the sunset? chef’s kiss, he probably has a few paintings of that scene.

- wait idk if i’m remembering this correctly but didn’t he anonymously (but not really LMAO) send the mc a painting of her saying it was a thanks for helping him in his personal story?? i think so but the vibes!! he probably has a lot of paintings of you from different nights and events, all of which that he would give to you on an anniversary with like a cute little letter from that night

- god i’m making myself cry

- drops coffee off at the firm but is busy, so he has to run. when you come down to the receptionist’s desk, on top of the cup is a post-it note with a little doodle of your face. just in case anyone forgets who it’s for ;)

[doberbutts]

Feel free to ignore this if it’s too personal, but have you ever felt like “the sick one” or “the unreliable one” because of your health? I’ve had to call out a lot of a new job because of gallbladder issues, and I’ve been struggling to be seen because my insurance changed so I have to go to a new doctor. It might be my anxiety but I feel like my coworkers sympathy is running out. Idk. If I go in and tough it out I usually end up worse and calling out more, but if I call out and rest to go longer the next time my team is upset. If you’ve ever felt this way, how did you cope? I work at an animal shelter so compassion fatigue is also high for everyone there, so I can see their frustration, but it’s not like I want to be sick and in pain. Thanks for your posts, you and your dogs make me smile when I need it.

Maybe when I was young, after the brain injury it's hard to remember little details so if it didn't leave a lasting impression it's gone now lmao, but not anymore.

I communicate very strongly with my friends and my employer that because I am disabled and because my disability is related to my inner systems, I have no control over it and there will occasionally be times when I just plain cannot. But I also make it a point to show up even when I don't feel well the first couple times I have an episode when dealing with someone new, so they can understand just how bad it gets. I showed up to work 3x deep in my cry/vomit/diaherria/faint cycle at my new job that I've now worked for a year, and at this point all I have to do is call in and be like "yeah it's that time again" and my boss goes "jesus christ stay home". So I don't really feel like a flake at all because the folks I surround myself with are very understanding that I'm less than useless at fun or work when I'm like this.

I'm also really on top of asking for frequent breaks and, well. Once they see me shake and wobble and fall a couple times I feel it turns them into the asshole for not listening to me ask for help/accommodations.

THAT BEING SAID part of this now that I'm thinking about it is probably due to my parents and my behavioral therapist when I was a kid teaching me how to advocate for myself as a neurodivergent child with the symptoms of a larger disability. I was diagnosed with ADD very young but I also had epilepsy (I've been seizure-free and unmedicated since I was 8 so "had" with the acknowledgement that you never really stop having epilepsy) so I often had to demand breaks at school to go take my meds or to go lay down in the nurse's office or to get away from flashing lights during a movie or to be allowed to access my fidget toys. I got points off for doodling in the margins of my notes and had to sic my mom on them because the reason I'd been doodling was because the teacher had taken my stress ball and my notes were fine other than the cats and pawprints I'd drawn down the sides so clearly I was paying attention. Any time a teacher gave me attitude about something I asked for I had a little card from my behavioral therapist that I kept in my backpack that I'd pull out and hand to them and I don't think I ever read it (or if I did it was using words a little kid wouldn't understand lmao) but it always made the teacher hand it back to me and do what I asked

When I got older and started fainting I started having to demand breaks in gym, demand seating in classes we were expecting to stand, access to water, the ability to have a snack on hand, etc. So I was taught very very young to demand disability accommodations if they're not being freely offered and to not back down just because people didn't want to follow through. I was raised by a deaf man and a special ed teacher and their combined experience with disabled and developmentally different children in schooling showed them how to teach my sisters and I to demand- not ask- what we needed.

I think this helped me as an adult, not feel like a burden or a flake just because my disability sometimes gets in the way of the rest of my life. I'm disabled! I always have had "something". And there's no shame in needing a break.

[ambertea]

clever

Read on AO3

She’s six years old and she’s just won a certificate for Maths.

Her mum’s sitting at the back of the assembly, exchanging whispers to the single dad sitting next to her. Rose keeps looking back, trying to catch her eye, but instead watches her mother’s hand sneaking up a strange man’s thigh.

The headmaster smiles at her strangely, in a way she will later define as ‘condescending’ but in the moment she can’t wrap her head around.

“Well done, you clever girl.” He says, and Rose hates it. His clammy hand engulfs hers and Rose just blinks as he shakes it up and down.

The school claps dutifully and her mum is still not looking at her.

She’s eleven years old and she hates everyone in her class. They tease her in the playground, mock her in the classroom and the only safe haven is the tiny library. The librarian is old and odd, and she strokes Rose’s hair like she’s nothing more than a tiny doll.

“Don’t try so hard to be clever,” she tells her. “They’ll leave you alone.”

Rose leaves the library and never comes back.

She’s fifteen years old and GCSEs are utter bullocks. Mickey has already failed them all, already told her they don’t matter in the real world. She stays behind after school to sit in empty classrooms to figure out algebra and tells her mum she still does gymnastics.

She gets her results in a thick brown envelope and takes a quick glance at a long list of A’s before she chucks it in the bin.

“Pure shit.” She tells her mum. “Didn’t even try, anyway. I’m just not clever enough.”

Her mum throws her a party regardless, and Rose ignores the ache in her chest.

She’s seventeen and he’s fucking hot.

She’s told her mum she’s doing A-levels because she hasn’t figured out if she wants to do hairdressing or childcare. Instead, she doodles equations on the back of English papers whilst she waits for everyone else to finish.

She meets Jimmy outside the school gates and he’s smoking cigarettes and the smell gets right into the back of her throat. She tells him that it’s bad for him, and he tells her he could be bad for her. He’s right.

She drops out of school and her mother approves because it was giving her airs and graces. What her mother does not approve of is the filthy bedsit she moves into, where she cries as her boyfriend screams at her.

“You think you’re clever, do you?” he yells, and she shakes her head and whispers no, no, never.

She’s nineteen, fucking shop window dummies are after her, and a strange man is standing with her in the lift.

“’Cos to get that many people dressed up and being silly, they got to be students.”

“Good point. Well done.”

She’s wrong, but the praise bounces around her brain.

She runs off with him because apparently, that’s just what she does. Runs off with charismatic men, leaves her mother worried sick, because she is Rose, and Rose is not clever.

This man, however, is no Jimmy. He’s smart – so smart, any small attempts at intelligence still leave her feeling dumb. This is a comfort. She argues with him, thinks around him, and starts to feel a bit better about herself.

He’s sweet as well, and kind, and doesn't care when she asks too many questions. He shows her how to strip wires and repair parts of his precious ship, and they tinker away together in comfortable silences. Now and then, she properly impresses him, and he ignores the beauties of the universe and beams at her instead. It’s strange and wonderful and she tries her best not to disappoint him.

Then she is sent away, he is trapped, and it’s time for her to use her bloody brains only she’s not sure they even work anymore. He is dying, far in the future, but still dying, and she is watching her mum scoff down chips. She doesn’t want to go back to her old life, doesn’t want to play stupid anymore.

“Why, because you’re better than us?”

No, because she has learned what life is like when she tries, and she is not yet ready to stop.

She makes it back, using her brain and a fucking massive truck, and it is worth it if just for the way he is looking at her. He tells her she is fantastic and then explodes into a whole new man, with a lankier frame and wilder hair. He takes a long nap, and she is left to be useless once more.

She stands up in front of actual, breathing monsters and tries to copy words she’s heard, but her voice shakes, and her hands are trembling. They laugh at her, and she is eleven again, being teased by the nasty girls in her class.

He saves the day, because that’s just what he does, and she runs off with him again because his smile is still kind and their hands fit nicely. Cassandra sits inside her brain and hums with curiosity, poking around her mind like it’s a mildly interesting boutique.

“Not as thick as you seem, are you?” She whispers into Rose’s mind.

She’s inside some sort of spaceship and he is gushing over the accomplishments of Reinette de Pompadour. She already knows all this, knows who she is, but he is enjoying the sound of his own voice, so she keeps quiet.

She watches him carefully, notices the lipstick marks around his face and the ridiculous angle of his collar, and stamps down the familiar feelings of jealousy rising within her chest.

It had felt like they were growing closer. Their hugs had been lingering, hands held tightly at any available moment. She had thought something was growing, something small and precious and good. Clearly, she was wrong.

Reinette dies, and Rose isn’t glad, not really, but she watches him carefully afterward and wonders. Wonders why he keeps her around if he even wants her there. She tries to ask, but the words die on her tongue.

She has almost let the feeling go when she meets her father, a man who does not know her and apparently does not care to. She calls him dad and he runs, leaving her crying and shaking and so very vulnerable. She wonders, afterward, why. Why no one has ever wanted her properly, why it feels like no one has even met her in the first place. She sobs into her mum’s shoulder and wishes she had told her about the GCSE results.

Maybe it’s a good thing, she thinks later, that she’s alone. She has no real connections that make her want to stay at home, no real relationships that don’t leave her mentally exhausted. He is her grounding point, her focus, and he doesn’t think she’s stupid, not really, but he doesn’t think she’s clever either.

She knows she loves him; knows she will spend the rest of her life pining for him. It aches, having so much unspent emotion coursing under her skin. Feels like she could explode and implode simultaneously. But his eyes are so soft, and he is so worth it.

“We’ll always be alright, me and you.” She tells him. He just stares into the sky glumly.

“There’s a storm approaching.”

She hopes for a bit of rain but instead gets a fucking earthquake.

She’s twenty-one, she’s in a different universe, and she’s absolutely fine.

“How are you doing?”

“Are you okay?”

“Speak to me, Rose, please.”

She doesn’t speak to anyone. Doesn’t even look in the mirror.

It’s hard to assign blame on a talking pepper pot, so instead, she blames herself. If she’d been stronger. Tried harder. Been cleverer.

She tells her mum this over a bottle of wine, and she just laughs.

“People like us aren’t clever, Rose. We’re survivors.”

She doesn’t want to be a survivor anymore.

She starts working at Torchwood. Starts sleeping at Torchwood as well. Pete gives her the job out of pity but is quickly astonished by the scale of the work she’s doing.

“You’re brilliant.” He tells her one night. Jackie scoffs.

“Brilliant? Hark at her.”

Rose ignores her. It doesn’t matter.

She sits through A-levels, and then university lectures, and then physics conventions with groups of boring boys who follow her like a bizarre squadron. She has a brother now, a tiny boy with eyes just like hers, and when she tucks him into bed, she whispers stories of the stars.

She creates a dimension cannon and brings it home to show Pete. He marvels over it whilst Jackie sniffs like she’s got a nasty cold.

“Just glorified jewelry. Face it, sweetheart. You’re stuck here with the rest of us. It’s time to get used to it.”

“Shut up,” Rose says, and she can feel her pulse banging away in her ears like a marching parade.

Jackie is spluttering, Pete’s eyes are wide, and Rose isn’t quite sure what she’s doing but she’s doing it anyway.

“I can do this. I am going to do this. So just shut up.”

She does do it. She flits around universes like students backpack around Europe, and it’s strangely healing to spend so much time by herself.

She meets tiny aliens made of glass who kiss through the refractions of light and hugs ginormous bear-like creatures who are surprisingly friendly and incredibly soft.

She searches for him, and it hurts and it’s hard but it’s also fantastic.

She gets through finally to a universe that should be right but is oh so very wrong. A red-haired woman screams at her, and Rose is finding it difficult to breathe.

“I'm nothing special. I'm a temp. I'm not even that. I'm nothing.”

“Donna Noble, you are the most important woman in the whole of creation!”

“Oh, don't. Just don't.”

She tells her mum about her GCSE results because she can’t stop thinking about it. Her mum stares at her for a long while and then looks down at her hands. Rose has never seen her mum speechless before, doesn’t like it, so she just nods and leaves.

She finds him, and the feeling rushes right from her toes to the top of her head. She has done it. After all the effort and pain, she has found him, and the uncurling pride is like nothing she’s ever felt before.

He gets shot and utterly ruins it, but the feeling lingers.

Her mum shows up at the worst possible time, but she is there, and she is looking at Rose so fiercely. When the situation calms down and they are safe, she pulls Rose into a tight hug and rubs her hands in circles across the small of her back.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” She whispers, and Rose quickly wipes her eyes on her shoulders.

She is dumped on the same beach she has had nightmares about for the last five years. She is left again, but this time she is left with a familiar man who whispers promises into her ear and holds her like she is something important.

He is looking at her like he’s hoping she might lead the way, and she knows how to do this now, knows how to think and plan and strategize. She kisses him on the cheek, watches the blush that spreads across his cheek, takes his hand, and leads him back to England.

She doesn’t take him straight back to the mansion, hates the idea of speech and silence in equal measure. Instead, she takes him to her lab, and he stares at her designs through startled eyes and stolen glasses. She fidgets in the corner of the room, and wraps her arms around her waist, waiting for his verdict.

He turns to her, whips the glasses off of his face and a look of quiet wonder spreads across his face.

“You’re brilliant.”

She squirms under his gaze, picks off an invisible bit of fluff from her jacket. He is still looking at her, and she tries her best to smile.

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously. These are so impressive.”

She’s still not sure what to do with the praise, but it warms her and fills all the cracked pieces of her soul with new and growing tissue. She kisses him, both because she’s not sure what else to do, and because she can, and he smiles against her lips. They break apart and he runs his fingers over her work, his eyes soft and curious.

“How did you do this?” He whispers, and something tender and precious burns gently in her chest.

“I guess I’m just clever.”

[amazingmaeve]

All to well ↠ Fred Weasley

━ “can i come over. i need to talk to you.”

summary ━ y/n and fred had an amazing relationship during there time at hogwarts. then he broke up with her then left. fred ends up calling y/n one night after the war because of his nightmares.

warnings ━ angst, insomnia, mentions of the war, depression, and fluff

a/n ━ some what based on all to well by taylor swift. also can relate to the dad part of the story.

word count ━ 6.2k

Ever since Y/N was young her fathers been her hero.

When she fell off her bike, her dad was there to swoop in and save the day. He put a bandage on her sore and kissed her forehead, reassuring her while she cried against his chest.

That was one she was 5.

After Y/N had gotten done with her tonsils being taken out. He was there holding her hand throughout it all. Her mom was there and Y/N was close to her but Y/N was an extreme daddy’s girl.

Her dad was there for when she got into Hogwarts and helped her with everything in her first year.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

When Y/N got back for Christmas she noticed how distant her dad was. He didn’t come in and read her a bedtime story or even to say good night.

Her mom was the one to do that. Y/N noted that she had bags under her eyes and even being 11 years old she could see how stressed her mom was.

Her mom reassured her everything was fine. But she didn’t believe her because one night during Christmas break, her mom and dad got into a huge argument. They were screaming and yelling at each other while Y/N stayed up stairs right by her door, tears strolling down her eyes listening to the people, who she thought loved each other so much, argue.

Y/N came out of the room with the stuffed animal her dad got for her fourth birthday, tears stinging her eyes. She heard someone come up the stairs loudly and angrily.

She looked up and saw her dad look straight at her and walk past her to her parents room. Y/N’s lip quivered as she saw her dad get his suitcase and pack everything, walked past her without even looking at her. He didn’t even say goodbye.

Y/N flinched as the door slammed and she heard her mother sob down stairs.

Y/N slowly walked down stairs hugging her bear to her chest. She saw her mom crying on the couch, tears coming out at a fast pace.

“Mommy,” Y/N voice wavered as she said it. Her mom's trembling body turned towards her with a shocked look. She tried wiping the tears so her daughter didn’t see as she walked up to her.

“Sweetie what are you doing up,” She asked, kneeling down next to her.

“Where’s daddy,” Y/N asked as her tearful expression brought some tears to her mothers eyes.

“It’s just us now baby,” Her mother wiped some tears away from Y/N’s eyes as they kept coming. Her mom's arms came to wrap around her hugging her while Y/N cried.

That’s when Y/N could never trust any man. Her father made such an imprint on her life that it made her not want to trust anyone. She was willing to give up love for it.

Christmas came the next day just Y/N and her mom and that’s all she needed.

For the next 5 years Y/N had to stay strong for her mom when she was at home. Y/N heard her mom cry herself to sleep when she was home and it broke her head. She hates her dad for what she did not only to her but to her mom.

Y/N stayed lonely for the next 5 years not wanting to get attached to anyone and break down again. It got lonely at some times but it helped with her studies.

Her mom was proud of Y/N. She’s got good grades and is even a prefect. She's everything she wanted her to be.

As Y/N walked down the halls doing her prefect duties as she noticed the Weasley twins playing around probably going to prank someone. Y/N rolls her eyes, she doesn’t know the Weasley twins all she knows is that they cause trouble and Y/N hates that.

“Weasley,” Y/N sneered walking up to the twins who had feared expressions on their faces.

“Actually Weasleys,” Fred corrected her with a smirk on her face. Y/N sighed out of annoyance.

“What are you doing up past hours,” Y/N impatiently asked while crossing her arms over her chest.

“Studying,” George shrugs innocently. Y/N lets out angry huff.

“Where’s your books,” Y/N asks, giving them a look. She didn’t understand why they were so damn popular they were getting on her never right now.

“In the library,” Fred starts to say as he looks Y/N up and down with a smirk on his face.

“Just stretching our legs,” George finishes with a smile. Y/N thinks on what to do and if they are studying she doesn’t want to ruin it for them.

“Fine but get to your dorms when you’re done,” Y/N sternly says, walking away from the twins hoping she did the right thing.

Y/N takes a deep breath leaning against the wall. She had to admit they were attractive and she’s always had an interest in Fred but acted in anything since she barely even saw him. And she didn’t get the butterflies that often.

It didn’t matter she wasn’t going to get her heart broken by a boy, or anyone ever again.

The next Y/N did her morning routine. Got dressed, put a little makeup on, get all of her books, and went to breakfast where she got her food and started eating.

Y/N was a perfectionist and always stuck to a routine and hated when someone ruined it.

As she was eating her toast two people sat on each side of her and she immediately knew who it was.

“Fred George,” Y/N greeted coldly, not looking up from her food to look at the twins.

“We just wanted to thank you for last night,” George began to say as he looked at the girl who didn’t look up from her food.

“It helped us big time,” Fred finished for his twin. Y/N had always intrigued him. She never talked to anyone unless she had to. Fred wanted to know what happened to her.

“Well you guys were studying right,” Y/N snaps looking from George to Fred.

“Who knows,” Fred innocently looks at her making butterflies erupt in her belly. She ignored them and rolled her eyes at the red head.

“Great so you lied to me,” Y/N sighs. She can’t blame them. She had a bad feeling in her stomach last night. She should have done something.

“Not exactly,” George giggles.

“Whatever,” Y/N grumbles. Her appetite is gone as she thinks about losing her role as a prefect.

She grabs her books getting up to leave since it’s almost time for her potions class. It’s her sixth year and she still hates potions.

Snape was a hard teacher to deal with. She had to be on time or points away from Y/H. So Y/N had to pay extra attention so she didn’t fail the class.

Y/N sat and got all her books out as students rolled in the class talking and chatting with each other. Meanwhile Y/N sat in her seat doodling in her note book trying to block out the noise. Unbeknownst to her a certain redhead was curiously looking at her.

Snape entered the class dramatically as always. Y/N closed her notebook getting ready to pay attention to the glass.

When she was taking notes Y/N felt paper hit the back of her head. She turned around to see Fred Weasley smiling at her.

Y/N rolled her eyes turning to face the front again. Y/N tried to ignore everytime Fred Weasley threw paper at her. It disappeared when it hit the ground so no evidence.

“Will you stop,” Y/N whispers angrily as he keeps throwing the paper at her. He holds up on defense.

“Miss Y/N do you have something you’d like to share with the class,” Snape's sharp tone seemed into Y/N’s brain.

“No sir,” Y/N shakes her head not wanting to get in trouble.

“10 points away from Y/H,” Snape snapped as Y/N looked down at the table. This was the first time she’s ever gotten house points away.

Y/N keeps her head down while Snape talks. She takes note trying to pay attention but it’s hard when she just got into trouble for the first time.

Fred didn’t try anything else with Y/N during the rest of the class and Y/N thanked god for that. If he didn’t that one more time she probably would’ve hexed him with something.

Snape dismisses everyone and Y/N grabs her books getting ready to go to her next class which is empty so she goes to the library to study.

“Hey Y/N wait up,” Y/N heard Fred yell which made her roll her eyes. She didn’t wait but Fred caught up to her anyways.

“What do you want Fred,” Y/N stops and looks up at the boy who gives her a charming smile.

“Just wanted to ask if you wanted to go and get a butterbeer tonight,” Fred says eagerly. Y/N can feel her heart racing again as the butterflies in her stomach start to flutter even faster than before.

“Why would I do that if you just got me in trouble,” Y/N asks, trying to hold all of her books up in her hands.

“I was just trying to ask you something,” Fred says happily as his eyes brighten while Y/N’s stay the same. Gloomy and uninterested.

“You could’ve done it in a different way,” Y/N mutters looking down at her feet to avoid eye contact with Fred.

“Here let me help you,” Fred grabs Y/N’s books. Y/N was about to interject and deny but he took the books out of her arms.

Fred didn't want to admit but he’s always been intrigued by Y/N. She was alway by herself and only talked to teachers, class partners and so on. Fred also never saw her smile which made him want to make her smile. She made him nervous for some reason.

He never got nervous around anyone.

He wanted to know what happened to her that won’t make her smile. Fred loves to make people smile. Especially people he likes/loves.

Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose. He’s being nice to her and she doesn’t want to be rude to him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Y/N retorted as Fred rolled his eyes at her stubbornness.

“Come on just let me help you,” Fred pleaded just wanting to be around her.

“Fine I’m going to the library,” Y/N gave in. She couldn’t say no to him and look him in the eyes at the same time.

They start to walk towards the library in silence til Y/N breaks the silence.

“I just wanted to apologize for being mean,” Y/N apologizes. She feels bad for being mean since he’s the one who’s helping her out. She doesn’t get that offer often.

“No need to apologize, you helped me and George out last night,” Fred sends her a wink which makes her shake head looking at the ground strolls on the ground, her heels clinking against the hardwood floor. He makes her feel things she doesn’t want to feel. She’s only known him for a day.

“I thought you were only studying,” Y/N corrects him trying to see if her gut reaction was correct.

“What do you think we were doing,” Fred avoids the answer, not wanting her to be mad at him. He doesn’t want to screw this up.

“I think you weren’t studying,” Y/N ponders, crossing her hands over her stomach as they stop in front of the library.

“You aren’t mad,” Fred asks astonished. He thought she’d lash out at him while kicking him in the balls.

“Just a bit, but we don’t know each other and I’m the one at fault. If I didn’t turn you in that’s my decision not yours,” Y/N explains running her hands through her hair. She pulls a few knots out while at it.

“Why did you let me and George go,” Fred speaks his mind. Y/N bites the inside of her cheek. Why did she do that?

“I don’t know,” Y/N answers, not looking at him. Fred gives her a smirk.

“So how bout that date,” Fred says, very optimistic. He hands her the books as he leans against the wall.

“I-I don’t know,” Y/N stutters looking around. Maybe dating wouldn’t be so bad but what if something bad happens and he doesn’t care about her?

“Come on one date and if you don’t like it we don’t have to go out ever again,” Fred offers, making Y/N let out a sigh and for the first time in her life she lives in the moment.

“Sure pick me up at 8,” Y/N accepts running into the library not wanting to see his reaction or him to see how nervous she was.

Y/N sits down and lets out a tiny smile feeling a bit of happiness inside of her. Happy. She hasn’t felt that in a long time.

She’s just met him and she’s already very happy. She wonders what will happen next, hopefully more happiness.

All she hopes is that this feeling doesn’t go away.

For the rest of the day Y/N felt something she could describe as giddiness. She can’t wait for the date. Years ago if someone told her she would have been going on a date Y/N would laugh in their face.

Y/N didn’t believe in love. But maybe Fred can be the exception. No she’s not in love with him right now but if they start dating Y/N can see that as a possibility.

She gets ready with the best clothes she gots which is a dress her mother bought her. Y/N puts a little more makeup on to make herself more presentable.

Y/N prances down the stairs to the common room where she sees Fred sitting on the couch. His knee is bouncing up and down out of nerves. When he sees her he looks her up and down and notes how beautiful she is.

“You look beautiful,” Fred compliments her as she brushes some of her hair behind her ear. She smiles at him as he puts his hands outstretched wanting her to take it.

Y/N takes his hand and her heart races. She’s never been this nervous before, it’s a new sensation that makes her feel weird.

They talk on the way to Hogsmeade about their interest. What they have in common and what they don’t have in common.

Fred told Y/N about his and George’s dream to open a joke shop while Y/N listened fascinated. She’s never liked pranks but Y/N can’t lie when people like Malfoy get pranked on.

When they get to Hogsmeade he orders them some butterbeer while Y/N taps her nails against the wood of the table, nerves rattling in her stomach.

“You okay,” She heard Fred ask her as he sat the butterbeer down and took a seat next to her. He had a happy expression on his face as he looked Y/N.

“I’m fine just kinda nervous,” Y/N admitted taking a drink then looking at Fred who had a confused look on his face.

“Do I make you nervous love,” Fred asks with his signature smirk on his face.

“Maybe,” Y/N says looking at him. “It’s just my first date and I don’t want to screw this up,” She nervously laughs looking at her hands where blue nail polish is being picked off.

“I noticed,” Fred added and Y/Ns head snapped towards his direction.

“How’d you know,” Y/N asks, narrowing her eyes at Fred.

“It just seems like you never talk to anyone,” Fred confesses, making Y/N frown. She didn’t know anybody knew about this but then again Y/N always thought she would be invisible. “I didn’t mean to make you upset,” He freaks out as he notices the look on her face.

“I’m not, I just always thought I was invisible,” Y/N elaborated. “Guess I was wrong,” She smiles.

“Trust me Y/N boys notice you,” Fred laughs as Y/N narrows her eyes in confusion. Y/N barely talks to any boys unless it's for a school project. “Guys talk,” Fred admits seeing the confusion spread on her face.

Y/N made an ‘oh’ face.

For the rest of the night Y/N and Fred chatted and got to know one another. She knew that she wanted to see him again. She wanted to get to know him more and vice versa.

At the end of the date Fred leaned in to kiss her and Y/N paused for a second. She’s obviously never kissed anyone so when Fred kissed her she just froze. Until she moved her lips along with his copying his movements.

Fred put his hand in her hair and pulled her head closer. While Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck leaving nothing between the two.

Y/N takes a deep breath leaning out of the kiss. It was so passionate it made her feel like on cloud nine. Y/N noticed Fred looking at her and buried her face into his chest not wanting him to catch her embarrassment.

“You’re so cute love,” Fred chuckles, bringing his arms around her and pulling her into a hug.

From then on everything was bliss. Y/N started hanging out with Fred and George more often since Fred asked her out on their second date. On her prefect duties she tried to ignore the two pulling pranks not wanting them to get into trouble.

Even in her sixth year at school Y/N could only describe the feeling in her chest as love. She felt as if she was in love with Fred Weasley and she hoped he was feeling the same about her.

Y/N told him about her dad when they were in the last week of the year and sixth month into their relationship. She felt like she needed a reason to tell him why she was so closed.

“You know how closed off I was,” Y/N asks Fred pushing some of her hair behind her ear feeling nervous about telling him this.

“Yes feels like centuries ago love,” Fred says as he rolls his head to look at her. Fred was laying down in his bed while Y/N sat criss cross picking at the skin around her nails. Fred picked up on this and leaned on his arms to look at her.

“Hey what’s wrong,” Fred grabs one of her hands and kisses the top of it.

“My dad left me and my mom when I was young,” Y/N begins to explain. “He was my hero. He was my best friend and then one day around Christmas he just left,” She explains her eyes brimming with tears. “I never found out why,” She whispers as a tear rolls down her cheek.

Fred puts his hand on her cheek and wiped the tear away with a sorrowful expression on his face. He didn’t know this was the reason why she never talked to anyone. He thought she just hated everyone not this. Fred sits up to pull her into a hug as she sobbed into his chest.

Y/N didn’t know she still felt so strongly about the situation as buried her head into his chest.

“It was my fault,” She sobs into his chest. Fred comfortingly strokes her back.

“How can you possibly think that love,” Fred says, scrunching his nose. He pulls her back from his chest with a stern look on his face. “This is not your fault you were just a child darling,” He enveloped her cheeks between his palms.

“Then why’d he leave,” Y/N whimpers tears coming out of her eyes at a faster pace. Fred does his best to wipe away all the tears but they keep coming like a waterfall.

“I don't know love but all I know it’s not your fault,” Fred kisses her forehead. He lays both of them down and pulls her head to his chest as her sobs start to calm down.

“I love you,” Y/N whispers after a while and her voice is raw from the crying. Fred looks down at her shocked by her words.

Fred doesn’t know much but he knows that he wants to have the joke shop with his twin and that he is absolutely in love with this girl.

“I love you too,” Fred whispers, hugging her harder. Y/N leans up to kiss him and Fred holds her hand as they kiss pouring their love into that kiss. Fred's hands travel to her hair as they kiss for a minute.

Y/N smiles as they part and pecks his lips again leaning her head in the crook of his neck feeling exhausted from all the crying.

She falls asleep in minutes while Fred stays awake admiring how peaceful Y/N looks. She looks completely stress free and even though finals are down that doesn't mean there’s stress and Fred loves it when she just relaxes.

Fred falls asleep soon after his thoughts are filled of Y/N.

A week later they both parted to their houses where they sent owls to each other where they explained how much they missed each other. Y/N explained how the lake she visited reminded her of him.

When at Hogwarts Y/N and Fred usually laid in the field talking about their day or just making out. That of course if they weren’t in class.

Y/N often helped Fred with school work but it usually ended up in a make out session.

Meanwhile at the Weasley household they noticed a change in Fred. They noticed how much happier he was. Whenever an owl was delivered to the house Fred was the first to get it. He had a smile on his face as he read it.

They both couldn’t just wait to get back at school to see each other again. But what was waiting for them at school would make them wish they stayed in summer forever.

Professor Umbridge. Or as Y/N liked to call her an evil shrew.

Y/N was demoted from her prefect duties as soon as she covered for Fred and George. Y/N went to Fred rambling how much of a bitch Umbridge was.

Fred couldn’t have agreed more.

Throughout the year Y/N had Fred with her by her side which was all she needed. Fred was there for when she was demoted and she was there when he was taken off of the quidditch team.

Fred that year was extremely protective over Y/N. When she had the blood quill Fred almost went to curse Umbridge but she stopped him not wanting Fred to get hurt.

Y/N was also muggleborn which meant Umbridge used that against her. It didn’t bother Y/N that much since Umbridge was a blood supremacist. But it bothered Fred very much.

When Malfoy called Y/N a Mudblood, it didn’t bother her since she was so used to it, especially from Malfoy.

But when Fred heard about it he went to Malfoy and punched him square in the face.

“Fred why the hell did you do that,” Y/N snapped at Fred as she looked at his hand and cleaned up the blood.

“He had it coming angel,” Fred told Y/N. Angel was a new nickname Fred came up with over the summer.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Y/N softly explained, wrapping his hands up in bandages.

“It’s not like we have quidditch anymore,” Fred sadly says rolling his eyes.

“Freddie,” Y/N says with a somber expression in her eyes as she cups Fred’s cheeks with her hands. She plants a kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry if I could’ve done anything I would’ve,” She says as she sits in his lap.

“It’s not your fault angel,” Fred reassures putting his hands on her hips gently massaging them.

Y/N leans in and kisses him, her arms on his shoulders as she does so. He kisses back his hands traveling up her back. As the kiss deepens he takes off her shirt leaving her in a bra.

After that Y/N takes off his shirt and they continue to kiss passionately. Her hands wrapped around his cheeks, kissing him harder.

Before anything else happened someone opened the door.

“MY EYES,” George screamed covering his eyes as Fred rolled his eyes at his twin. George ran out of the room. Y/N giggled at the boy.

“I have a question,” Y/N asks, getting her shirt back on.

“You already did love,” Fred teases, pulling the shirt over his head and back on his body. Y/N rolls her eyes smiling at him. “What is it angel,” He asks, walking over to her and pulling her into a hug.

“Will you always love me,” She asks, burying her head in his chest.

“Always,” He promises kissing the top of her head.

It was nearing the end of the year and Fred and George were sitting down on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. They were going over plans for the joke shop.

George was rambling on about something as Fred thought of Y/N. He knew what he had to do. Let her go so she wouldn’t get hurt. By Voldemort or Umbridge.

“Fred, what's wrong,” George asks, concerned for his twin.

“I have to break up with Y/N,” Fred says and the thought of doing it even nauseated him. But he had to do it for her.

“What,” George asks flabbergasted. Y/N and Fred were good for each other. George also knew about her past and also knew it would break if he did this.”You can’t do this,” George scoffed.

“I have too for her safety,” Fred says looking at his fingers.

“Fine but you’ll have to deal with consequences,” George states.

Fred nods and stands up going to Y/N’s dorm getting ready for this. But he doesn’t feel ready as he climbs the stairs.

When he reaches her room he takes a deep breath before opening the door but frowns when he realizes when she isn’t in there. She must be in the astronomy tower. That’s where she goes to think.

Fred runs to the tower wanting to get this done and over with so he doesn’t have to see her cry. Jesus he didn’t want to make her cry but it was inevitable.

Fred sees her leaning on the railing and watching the stars. Her hair flowing in the wind. Fred didn’t want to leave her but he had to.

“Hey Y/N,” Fred gloomily said as she turned around he noticed the happy smile on her face and hated himself as he knew that smile was going to be wiped off. He walks towards her

“He Freddie,” Y/N says smiling wrapping her arms around his shoulders planting a kiss on his lips. When he didn’t kiss her back she frowned. “What’s wrong,” She asks worriedly.

Fred takes her arms off his shoulders and she looks hurt as he does. “Me and Georgie are leaving to make a joke shop,” He explains.

“Dropping out,” Y/N asks and he nods and she nods at him as well. “It’s only a couple more months and we can be together again,” She says smiling. Y/N didn’t know what’s wrong but she had a bad feeling in her stomach. Maybe it was the look on Fred’s face.

“I think we need to break up,” Fred blurts out with a sorrowful expression on his face.

“What,” Y/N replies shocked. She didn’t want to break up with him. “It’s only a couple of months,” She tries to explain.

“I don’t want to be with you,” Fred snaps, making Y/N’s eyes water.

Why do the people she always loves leave her? Why can’t one person just stay and be there for her whether it was platonically like her dad or romantically like Fred.

“Okay,” Y/N says rolling her tongue in her mouth trying not to cry. But she can feel tears brimming her eye begging to be let out. “I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you because all it would end is in heartbreak,” She whispers, her lip quivering as tears start to cascade down her cheeks.

“Y/N-,” Fred tried to say as he approached her. She takes a breath as the wind makes her wrap her arms around herself.

“I knew it everybody in my life eventually leaves me,” Y/N lets out a laugh with tears still coming out. “And you said it wasn’t my fault,” She finally breaks down and lets out a choked sob.

“Angel-,” He tried to approach her tears glistening his own his.

“Don’t,” She whimpered, running away to her from where she finally collapsed on her bed sobbing into her pillow.

She should’ve focused on her studies and not let Fred in. If she did, she wouldn’t be here sobbing against her pillow curled up in a fetus position.

Y/N loved him so much and she thought he felt the same but she was wrong. She wished she had a time machine where she could’ve said no to the date.

If she would’ve Y/N would still be somewhat content. Now she’s just downright sad.

Fred promised her he would always love her. Y/N scoffed at the memories wiping the tears away but they kept coming.

When Fred left the next day with George she had to hold in the sobs so no one knew how bad she was hurting. They left with happy smiles on their faces as they left leaving a depressed Y/N.

Y/N finished school passing luckily. School kept her mind off Fred. It didn’t stop her from crying herself to sleep. And then she was finally out of Hogwarts.

Y/N got a job at a muggle coffee shop where she tried to rebuild her life. But things quickly fell again.

Her mom revealed to her that she had stage four breast cancer. Y/N was shocked she didn’t see the signs. She’s been so caught up with Fred she didn’t see her own moms pain.

Her mom reassured her it wasn’t her fault as Y/N cried against her moms chest.

For the next few months she was there for her mom and helped her with everything. When her mom was bed ridden she cooked her food and helped her bathe.

Y/N paid the bills with her unemployment and her money from the coffee shop.

Even in such a dark time for Y/N, her and her mom joke around. Her mom always made everything better for her.

Y/N would sometimes stay in the room in the rocking chair making sure she was okay. Y/N knew what was coming she couldn’t avoid. Her mom was going to die and she couldn’t prevent it. Y/N had to accept it. But she couldn't because her mom was the last person in her life that cared about her and she wasn’t ready to let go.

During the wizarding war Y/N stayed with her mom. She couldn’t do that, leave her all alone. Y/N had to be with her mom through the pain.

One morning Y/N woke up in the rocking chair. She opened her eyes stretching her joints before looking at her mom smiling. Then she noticed something.

“Mom,” She whispers worried as she shakes her hoping for her to wake. When she doesn’t Y/N starts to cry. “Mommy,” She whispers, shaking her hoping she wakes up. “Please wake up you’re all I have,” Y/N sobs as she hugs her mom. “You’re all I have left.”

Sobs rack throughout her body as she realized something. Everyone she’s ever loved left her. Her dad and Fred. And now her mom.

After a few more minutes of sobbing and hugging her mom she called the ambulance with tears running down her face. Voice hoarse from crying.

Y/N decided to cremate her mom and just to put a headstone so she could still visit. She put some of her mom's ashes in a necklace so she will always be with Y/N.

“I’m gonna miss you mom,” Y/N weeps as she places the flowers on the headstone. It was a sunny day contrasting her gloomy expression.

When Y/N’s mom died the war was over for a few days. Y/N didn’t worry about that since her mom was her priority.

For the next few months Y/N is almost robotic. She gets up, eats breakfast, goes to work, gets home, eats dinner, and then goes to sleep.

It feels like she can’t feel anything. She still cries herself to sleep. One day while at the coffee shop she sees some she recognizes.

“Y/N,” Fred says surprised. Y/N is too and notices he’s changed. He looks older in a good way. But Y/N doesn’t show her surprise as she stares at the red head.

“What will you be having,” Y/N asks in a monotone voice.

Fred notices something wrong with her. It doesn’t feel like the Y/N he knew. But that’s none of his business, he broke up with her.

“Just regular coffee,” Fred says quietly. Y/N nods walking away getting the coffee and walking back setting it down. “Thanks,” He smiles at her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything just walks away going to another customer. Y/N notices when she collects the money he gave her an extra tip. She rolls her eyes as she walks to the counter.

That night Fred has the same nightmare. Him dying with a wall falling on him. He wakes up in a sweat with a few tears rolling down his eyes.

Fred gets up to the phone book and looks for Y/N’s number and calls her shaking back and forth.

Y/N wakes up to a ringing and then realizes that it’s the phone. She lets out an annoyed sigh before answering it.

“What,” Y/N snaps.

“Hey it’s me,” Fred’s soft voice comes through the phone.

“Fred what are you doing calling me at,” Y/N sits up to check the time. “3 o’clock in the morning,” She sighs.

“Can I come over? I need to talk to you,” Fred asked desperately. Y/N doesn’t even know why she’s considering it. Maybe it’s the desperation in his voice that makes her worry.

“Fine,” Y/N sighs.

“Thanks,” Fred sighs out of relief getting ready then apparates to her front door and rings the doorbell.

Y/N gets her robe on and walks down the stairs. Her mother left the house in her will. She basically left everything in her will.

“Hey Fred,” Y/N sighs, opening the door wider gesturing for him to come in.

“I’m sorry for showing up so late,” Fred apologizes as Y/N goes to the kitchen to make them some tea to relax.

“Why did you even call me Fred you don’t even want to see me,” Y/N huffs before taking a sip out of her tea.

“I broke up with you for your safety,” Fred admits. Y/N scoffs not believing him. “I’m not lying, I didn’t want Voldemort or any other death eater to hurt you,” He explains with sadness in his eyes. “I know that’s not a good excuse but I just wanted you to be safe,” He pinches the bridge of his nose out of stress.

Y/N sighs and moves to the couch which Fred follows her with his cup of tea.

“Why did you even call me,” Y/N asks, leaning her arm on one of her cushions on the couch.

“During the war a wall almost fell on me and I almost died,” Fred explains making her eyes soften. “I keep having repeated nightmares over the situation and I thought talking may be able to help.”

“Oh Freddie,” Y/N cooes wrapping her hand around his cheek. “You know even being with me won’t cure this,” She explains rubbing his cheek.

“I know but it might help to have someone. I mean there’s George but I think he’s getting annoyed,” Fred lets out a little chuckle making Y/N smile. “Do you think I can have another chance,” He asks, a bit hopeful.

“Yes but we have to take it slow,” Y/N sternly says making Fred smiling

“Okay I can go with that,” Fred accepts that. “Where’s your mom,” He asks knowing this is her house.

Y/N’s face falls and Fred gets worried scooting over to her.

“Uh she died of breast cancer a few months ago,” Y/N admits, trying her hardest not to cry. She plays with the necklace with her mother’s ashes.

Fred pulls her into a hug and she rests her head on his shoulder as Fred comfortingly rubs her back up and down.

“I’m so sorry Y/N,” He whispers.

“It’s fine I think I’m finally starting to move on.”

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Affirmation•

Summary: Reader's dad is a dick, Bakugo does the big comfort. Just a short little comfort piece.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: Little bit of angst, degredation (not the fun kind), bad relationship with father, Bakugo is not great at comfort but he gives it the old college try.

Word Count: 1,640

A/N: This was for a request, the basic gist of the request was the reader having an asshole dad that doesn't support them, Bakugo over hearing it, reader breaking down a little then Bakugo giving some comfort. I hope you like it!❤️

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"You shouldn't have moved out so young, it was stupid and impulsive." The harsh, too familiar voice barks over the phone.

"I know." You choke out.

But you left me with no choice. You want to say that, but you don't have the guts.

"You knew damn well you'd never be able to make a living off of doodles."

Another wave of nausea washes over you, your hand tightens around your phone and starts to shake.

"I know…" You don't know, you don't agree, but you can't argue, it would be useless.

"Dad, please don't." You beg, voice wobbly with the tears you're holding back.

You should never have called them for money, you knew better. What choice do you have though? With three dollars to your name, rent to pay and groceries to buy.

You should be able to call your parents… should be. They've never supported your choices, especially your dad.

"Look, you've gotta figure this one out, I can't cure incompetence." Ice settles in your gut as he hangs up.

He wouldn't help you, your mom wouldn't help you.

They had always laughed at your desire to become a comic book illustrator, calling it a useless path, a waste of time. Defeated and helpless, you crawl into bed.

You'll give your two weeks tomorrow, find a real job, maybe keep drawing as a hobby.

The thought makes you sob, the feeling settles into the base of your being, deep and aching.

"What are you crying for?" A grumble of a voice echoes from your doorway.

"Suki, please, not now." Katsuki is a lot of things, comforting is not one of them.

He waits for a moment, you just bury your face further into the blankets, clutching a pillow to your aching chest.

"Was that your dad?" He asks, his voice taking on a softer tone.

You don't answer, just nod and sniffle.

You hear him whisper something about shitty people, then feel the mattress dip.

"He's an asshole, he's gonna act like an asshole."

Not helping.

You flop onto your back, tears pouring out of your eyes as you glare at him.

"Shit, you're actually crying." He scrambles up the bed, he grabs you and hauls you into his lap, almost cradling you like a baby.

"What happened? Do I finally get to blast him to pieces? Just say the word baby, I'll-"

"I'm gonna stop drawing." You admit quietly.

"Huh?" He sounds almost offended.

You snuggle into his warm chest then blink up at him, ruby eyes look at you with honest confusion.

"I can't keep doing it. I can't afford anything, I'm not that good, my parents hate me for it." God it hurts, it makes your insides feel so raw.

He grabs the side of your cheek, forcing you to make eye contact.

"Fuck that, fuck them. You're incredible, -hey, look at me-" Halfway through his sentence you pull your head away and press your face into his chest.

"Hey, firecracker, look at me, please?" The nickname pulls at your heart a little, he's called you that since you met, since you were the only one with enough balls to give his shit right back to him.

When you refuse to look up, he just holds you tightly to his chest. You soak up the body heat, inhale his smell, revel in the way he clings to you.

"Listen to me, then, you're talented, you're capable, and you're so fucking beautiful. Parents are just a bunch of old dumbasses that get off on telling their kids what they can't do." He's trying so damn hard to keep his voice down, you can tell by the way he's gripping you.

"I'll help you with whatever you need." He places a kiss on top of your head, a little rough, but that's just Katsuki.

"No, I can do this, I just have to get a better job." You insist with a pitiful voice.

"I know you can, but you don't have to. I can't let you give up on drawing, not with the talent you have." He runs a hand through your hair as he talks, the motion soothes you immensely.

"I know parents suck, especially when you don't do what they have planned for you, but you have to keep doing what you love. Please, let me help you." He almost sounds frantic, it makes your heart melt.

Katsuki loves you, you know he loves you, he'd bring buildings to the ground for you.

"It's too much, I can't ask you to help with all of it." You wipe your eyes with your sleeve before looking up at him again.

"Is living here the biggest issue?" He asks, still running his hands through your hair.

You nod, defeated and overwhelmed.

"Move in with me." When he says it, he sounds almost as shocked as you feel.

"What?" You ask.

"I'm serious, when was the last time we actually slept in our own homes? Or even showered separately, there's no point in living apart anymore."

He has a point, a very good point. Though, something doesn't sit well with you.

"I'm not a charity case, Suki, would you even be asking me this if I wasn't crying over my dad?" Your question is genuine, but he seems so hurt by it.

"I would be, I've wanted to."

He's dead serious.

You scramble to sit up straight, moving so you can straddle him as he leans against the headboard. You grab the sides of his face and make him look directly at you.

"Katsuki, if this is a prank I will fucking kill you." You say, shaking him a little as you talk.

A small smile creeps onto his face, eyes full of adoration. He reaches up to hold your face as well, thumbs catching the remaining tears.

"You couldn't if you tried, but it's not a prank. Please, come live with me." He grabs one of your hands, brings it to his mouth, then kisses your palm.

"I'm also serious about you being talented." He kisses your wrist.

"And capable." He pulls you in to kiss your neck.

"And so fucking beautiful." He plants one, dedicated kiss to your lips.

"Ok." You say, breathless.

"You will?" He asks, his voice taking on a giddy tone.

His hands snake around your waist and starts kissing you wherever he can, frantic and needy.

"And you're gonna keep drawing?" He pauses, looking up at you with sweet, honest eyes.

You turn to mush when he looks at you like that, without fail.

"Do you think I should?" You play with the collar of his t-shirt, quickly forgetting your father's harsh words.

"Baby, I love your work, I love watching you work. Please don't stop because of some fuck head that couldn't see talent if it hit him in the nuts." He lays his chin on your chest, still looking up at you with a devoted gaze.

"Can we get a dog?" You ask, hands coming up to play with his wild, blond hair.

He gives you a dramatic pout before pressing his face into your sternum.

"We can get a cat." He says against your chest, voice muffled by your body.

You giggle as he pulls you closer.

"I'll keep drawing if we get a dog." You bargain.

He grumbles against your chest before pulling away to look up at you.

"A rescue?" He asks, bright eyes looking up at you hopefully.

There he is, the giant teddy bear hiding under the man that swears like a sailor and makes threats like a hit man.

"Of course." You lean down and kiss his nose.

Somehow, through his reassurance and his desire to have you close, Suki has managed to dull the ache of the parental disapproval.

"I love you." You sigh, hands snaking around his neck.

"I love you more, and I'll wipe the floor with anyone who makes you feel like you're less than incredible." He leans up to kiss you long and hard, lips working perfectly against yours.

"Can we go look at dogs now?" He asks when he pulls away.

"Oh? Mr. 'We can get a cat.'?" You tease him, ruffling his hair as you slide off his lap.

You try to walk towards the closet, but he catches you around the waist from behind, caging you with his strong arms.

"You're talented, say it." His voice is low in your ear, making goosebumps raise on your flesh.

He has this thing that he makes you do, something about verbally affirming yourself until you believe it.

You roll your eyes and pull at his arms.

"Huh uh, no dog until you say it." He kisses your neck gently.

"No dog, no drawing." You shoot back.

"Baby."

"Fine, I'm talented." You huff.

"You're capable." He continues, squeezing you tighter.

"I'm capable." You don't believe it, but Suki does, and that's what matters.

He spins you in his arms, hands coming up to cradle your cheeks.

"You're beautiful." It's more of a breath, a whisper, his voice soft and soothing.

You glare up at him, not willing to say those words. He gives you a serious look, all stern and unwavering.

"I'm beautiful." You say as quietly as you can.

"You are." He kisses your forehead, breathing out as he pours his love over you.

"Who's a badass?" He says as he pulls away, a smile cracking across his face.

"I'm a badass." You can't help but laugh, chest bubbling with admiration for your determined boyfriend.

"Hell yeah you are," He presses one more kiss into your lips, "Let's go get that damn dog."

Katsuki Bakugo is many things, maybe comforting isn't one of them, but he's learning.

[jtrbluv]

we’re not really strangers | pjm

summary: We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones. Ready?

or alternatively,

your furtive infatuation with your lifelong best friend proves to be hard to suppress when there’s (1) alcohol involved and (2) a card game that forces you to reveal more about yourself than you could ever wish for. in short, no, you are not ready.

[friends to lovers!au]

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, crack, slight angst

word count: 8.7k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, two emotionally constipated best friend, PG-15

A/N: hi, i’ve been really excited about this fic for a while, and i’m genuinely so happy that i finally finished it! the card game is in fact real and i got inspired for this fic after i had played the game with a couple of friends myself. AHEM! @koushiningg​ ! we both cried and i do highly recommend to play it! but anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic because i had a lot of fun writing it! sending love always... jumi out!

EDIT: @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ i’d also like to thank the lovely pidge for beta reading this 4 me as well! PIDGE I FUCKIN LOB U!!! 

PLAYLIST ; SEQUEL

♤ ♤ ♤

Not once in your life did you ever imagine a simple card game to become the bane of your existence. 

Yet Park Jimin was able to prove you wrong. 

Let’s play ‘We’re Not Really Strangers’ he said. It’ll be fun, he said.

You stare down at the card in front of you—everything else in your periphery was blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart. 

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the room who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. 

Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage. 

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known. 

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on your body, especially your heart. 

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. 

But then you remember that you aren’t that pathetic. Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now. Up to the point where you could probably hear the crickets chirping outside his apartment, except the only sound that was filling your ears was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being. 

Your face may be gradually morphing the same shade of crimson as the writing inscribed onto the card itself, and you may have a whole line of sweat encompassing your hairline. But it’s just a stupid little card game. You could say any stupid little answer and the stupid not-so-little boy wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care. So you shouldn’t care. 

When did you become so pathetic after all?

-one hour and a half ago-

“Why can’t we just play Mario Kart or Uno? This sounds like there’s too much thinking involved,” you whine, leaning against the side of his couch. 

“One, we always play that. And two, I always lose,” he grumbles, plopping down onto the floor.

Jimin rests his back on the frame of the couch as he sits in the small gap made by the large piece of furniture and the coffee table that resided in front of it. You decide to sit on the floor as well, around an arm’s length away from your friend. He places the red box down onto the table—opening the cap and revealing the contents with a mischievous glint in his irises. 

Within the box was a deck of cards, separated into three piles with two pencils on either side. Knowing Jimin, you assumed this game had an ulterior motive you were unaware of, and by the title of the game, you could already tell that you weren’t going to like it very much. 

“How do you even play this?” You ask, causing him to look up in return.

He bites his lip, taking a couple seconds to ponder on your question, “I don’t know it’s my first-time playing too,” he shrugs. “I was watching Jin and Namjoon playing it a couple of weeks ago and for some reason, Jungkook started crying.”

“He is a sap,” you hum in agreement, thinking in retrospect of Jungkook crying from various situations such as Iron Man dying or that one time Jin farted on his pillow and he got pink eye for a whole week. 

“The biggest,” he concurs, “Hm, there’s no instructions in here.” He mutters while shuffling through the cards. 

“Why don’t you just search it up?” You suggest, sliding the box to yourself as he nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket. 

While holding the box in the palm of your hand, you scan the contents—turning it around in your palm until your eyes narrow in on the words printed at the bottom. 

“Oh, it says something here.”

His head perks up. “Hm? What is it?”

You clear your throat at the sight of the long explanation. “We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones.” You internally grimace at the words. The game hasn’t even started and you already had a bad feeling about it all. “Ready?” You say through clenched teeth, purposely keeping your head hung low. 

Jimin’s lips quirk up into a cheerful grin, unaware of the piercing stare you were giving him. “Okay, I think I got it,” he declares, eyes zeroed in on his phone once more, ”There’s three levels—perception, connection, and reflection. Each level we pass, the deeper and more thought-provoking the questions get. Helping us make a deeper connection and get to know each other better yadda yadda yadda.”

You nod in understanding, sliding the box of cards back towards him—forcing the grimace that kept threatening to plaster itself onto your face into a small, smug smile. 

“The first thing we have to do,” he begins, taking out two pencils and two small pieces of paper, “is write messages to each other. We won’t be able to open these until after we leave.” He explains, sliding a pencil and paper towards you.

“Wow, very cryptic,” you tut, biting down on your bottom lip before more distasteful remarks decided to leave your lips. He doesn’t catch your reaction or your comment though because he’s already got his pencil in his hand, scribbling vigorously onto the tiny piece of paper. Knowing him it could very well be nonsensical insults and doodles, or a whole essay about your friendship and what you mean to him. Most likely ludicrous and full of thought, either way, just like him. 

Without much thought, you lazily jot onto the paper.

know that i love u, u fucker <3 

-y/n

The sound of your pencil falling against the table causes him to look up at you, eyes knit together in confusion. 

“You’re done already?”

You chuckle, “I mean, I wasn’t going to write an essay. You already know how I feel about you. But it seems like you’re writing one though.”

His eyes narrow in on you—giving you an indiscernible look before letting out a small ‘hmph’ and lowering his focus back down to his pencil and paper. You dismiss his enigmatic behavior—deciding to mindlessly scroll on your phone while waiting for him to finish his MLA formatted essay.

Two minutes pass and you hear the sound of his pencil being placed onto the table. “Done.”

“You added citations too right?”

He scoffs, “No, but i’ll gladly add some if you’d like.” 

You roll your eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time in the last five minutes, “Just start the goddamn game.”

He takes the first stack of cards and shuffles them between his hands. “In all three levels, there are wild cards or basically dares we have to complete. And for each level, we get two ‘dig deeper’ cards. Pretty self-explanatory. So this is the perception level. It’s basically designed for first encounters and strangers, and we’re gonna be asking each other questions about ourselves.”

Your eyes widen at the whole confidentiality of it all. “Are we going through all of those cards?” You blurt out, staring at what seemed to be like 50 cards in his hands. 

“Oh no,” he quickly refutes, “It would take hours. We’ll just do like 12 cards each.”

“Alright,” you huff, letting out a small breath of relief. 

“Yay! Okay I’ll go first,” he beams, his toothy smile evident as he places the deck in between the two of you while grabbing a card from the top, “What do you think my name is?”

You snort at the conspicuousness of the question, “Jamal.”

He immediately guffaws at your response, throwing his head back in addition. “Hey, I don’t mind that.”

“Are all of the questions like this?” You say in between hushed laughter. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head as you pick up another card from the deck, “now you ask me.”

“Alright, what’s the first thing you noticed about me?” You ask, slightly taken aback by the sudden earnestness of the question, causing you to become genuinely curious about what his answer was going to be.

He hums, taking a second to think it through. “I think your smile and your laugh. It’s always been really contagious since the day I met you.” He admits, almost matter-of-factly as if it was something you should’ve known by now, yet you did not. 

Your heart nearly disintegrates into a puddle of goop right then and there, but you manage to conceal your reaction, “Aw, you actually like me.” You tease. 

He scoffs with a playful grin on his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. You still cackle like a damn hyena.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “At least I don’t laugh at every single of Jin’s lame ass jokes.”

He gasps, jaw slack open due to your all too accurate truthbomb, “I did not ask to be attacked in my own residence.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it then.”

He snorts. “Holy shit, do you remember when I banged my head on the corner of his coffee table.” 

“How could I forget? I had the picture of the bump on your head as my lockscreen for like a month.” You reminisce, resisting the urge to pull up the picture from your phone.

“Yeah, and that same month I bought and rotated between the same 10 hats.”

“Hey! It genuinely didn’t look as bad as you thought.”

He whips his head towards you, giving you a piercing glare that made you want to redact your statement immediately. 

He grins from ear to ear, the little shit, amused at the reaction he was able to garner from you. 

“Aha!” He suddenly guffaws, shooting out of the floor and prancing towards his fridge. He then takes out three bottles of lychee-flavored soju and makes his way back towards the table. 

Jimin being the borderline alcoholic he is, it doesn’t come as a surprise to you. Not even after he takes another trip back to the fridge to grab yet another three bottles of soju, mango-flavored to be exact. He has probably one of the stupidest grins etched onto his face as he held onto the bottles—meanwhile you were more concerned about the possibility of having to clean up a bunch of broken glass and wasted soju. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“And do you plan on drinking all of this by yourself?” you say, gesturing towards the bottles.

“I know my liver is strong, but I don’t buy this shit just to enjoy alone,” he retorts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head as you click your tongue, “Playing this while tipsy just sounds ten times better don’t you think?.”

You shrug—although you had a strong hunch for what he was insinuating, “I mean I guess.”

He starts to pour soju into his shot glass, stopping just before it hits the brim. He slides the glass to you and you take it into your hand, eyeing the sparkling fluid and thinking about the way the contents would do its little all-too-familiar dance on your tongue. 

“Well, you know what they say,” he says, pouring a glass for himself, “drunk words are sober thoughts,” he finishes while dragging out the last word—downing the first shot in one quick swig. You follow his lead soon thereafter, refusing to let your mind linger on what he had just said and the viable likelihood of you spewing out the words that could just make or break your longstanding friendship and lead to a lifetime of regret. 

Obviously, everything’s going fine and dandy for you.

-

The next 20 minutes consisted of a plethora of superficial questions that would vary from:

“What's your favorite song lyric you can think of off the top of your head?”

Your head shoots up as if the lightbulb in your head just flashed on. “Easy. Shawty’s like a melody in my head that i cant keep out got me singing like-“

He lunges over to clap a hand over your mouth before you could sing the next line. “Na na na na no Y/N. Please stop.”

Or something along the lines of:

“What character do you think I'd play in a movie?” He asks with a smug smile. 

“You’d be the second male lead that everyone secretly wants to end up with the main character because you act all sweet and kind and and genuinely cares about her but instead she chooses the other guy because something about him draws her in and it was her ‘gut instinct’ or some shit like that.”

“So I would get second male lead syndrome?” He reiterates. 

“Yes.” 

He sets his shot glass back down with a glower, clearly taken aback. “That is the biggest insult I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

You also couldn’t forget about:

“Oh, this one says to create a secret handshake.”

“No.” You deadpan.

“And why not?”

“Your pinky‘s the size of a vienna sausa—“ 

He smacks you square in the cheek with a pillow before you could finish your sentence. You don’t even fight back because your mind was so slow to process what he had just done. The fact that you only slept for 5 hours last night didn’t help whatsoever. Your evident lack of energy causes him to jab his finger into your side, causing a loud shriek—your fight or flight response starts kicking in as you grab the back of his neck and slam his face against the fabric of the couch cushion. 

-

Soju was never able to make the two of you full on drunk—buzzed of course, but not enough for complete incoherency. And so you both down a bottle each before finishing the first round. 

“I’m surprised we didn’t get any wild cards that round,” he says while resting his head on the couch.

You purse your lips, “You spoke too soon.” 

His eyes flash open as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see the card. “Wait actually?”

You can feel your insides churn as you read the words in front of you, and you were sure that it wasn’t the alcohol talking. “Write down the three most important things to you in a relationship for 30 seconds and then compare.”

Jimin reaches over to grab two pieces of paper and pencils while unlocking his phone to find the timer app, “Okay, I’ll put a timer on for 30 seconds starting… now.”

And so the internal monologue in your head begins. 

Three most important things… only three? That’s not anywhere near enough to suffice. Wait, what would the first one even be… oh yeah, trust. Trust is very much important yes, yes, yes. What else? Um, communication? Yes of course, that’s essential. Okay, what would the last one be? 

You sneak a glance over at Jimin. His cheek is squished against the palm of his hand, making his cheek fat (an area in which he lacked in) more prominent and the pink, plush flesh of his lips appear even bigger than they already were. 

The ceiling light emitted a faint, ambient glow—the lights and shadows hitting all the slopes and curves of his face. You never understood how someone could be so effortlessly stunning. Even the mess atop his head that’s supposed to be his hair looks purposely tousled—the ebony strands sticking up in multiple directions was framing his temples and contrasted with the honey-like hues of his skin. 

Unlike the glow that radiated from the lights of the worn-down apartment and the radiance of whatever was beyond the glass of the window behind him, everything about him seemed to glow much brighter.

“Hello, earth to Y/N, your 30 seconds is up.” He interrupts pointedly, waving a hand in front of your face.

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head as well as all preceding thoughts that definitely weren’t consuming your mind a few seconds ago, “Sorry w-what?”

He laughs at your disoriented state, “Did you finish writing your three things?”

No, I wrote your name as number 3. “Yeah, I did. You can go first though.”

He nods with a small smile. “Oh, okay then let’s see. First, I put trust. I don’t know, I think everyone puts that to be honest. After that, I put communication. I feel like that’s just a given y’know. Another thing I feel like most people would say.”

You utter a timid “mhm” under your breath albeit zoning out and being unaware of what he was saying. Opportunely, you managed to scribble out his name with the mere seconds that had passed and now you were tapping the lead point of the pencil against the paper, littering the page with a bunch of grey, little dots—incognizant to the fact that he had his eyes focused on you the whole time. 

“I didn’t really know what to put last. Three things isn’t anywhere near enough in my opinion. But at the last second, I wrote down vulnerability,” he continues.

You look up upon hearing the last word. “Oh wow, that’s good. I didn’t even think about that.”

He chuckles unabashedly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Right? I just figured. At first, I thought it would go in the same category as trust but then I thought about it more. Yeah, you can trust someone and someone can trust you, but to what extent does that all go to. Where does it start? And where does it even end? You need to be able to open up to the person I feel like. So I guess trust and vulnerability go hand in hand.”

Impressed with his words, you decide to chime in.  “Wouldn’t communication go along with it too?”

“Hm?”

You place your pencil down. “You would open up to each other by means of communication, becoming more vulnerable, and then overall gaining more trust in the end.”

His brows raise at your sudden revelation, “Wait, you’re so right, did you just wax poetic and full cycle all that?.”

You smile, “I mean I guess,” you respond humbly, “ it does make sense though, does it not?”

He hums in agreement while downing another shot, “It applies to us, right?”

You force out a chuckle, but it comes out a lot more faux-sounding than you would’ve liked. “Haha, yeah I guess it does, doesn’t it.” Once again, starting to dive deeper into the abyss of pitiful hope and unrequitedness. 

“Describe your perfect day.” He suddenly interjects.

You quirk a brow. “Didn’t I just go?”

“It’s okay, I’ll go for this one too.”

“Alright,” you say, foot tapping on the wooden floor as you look past him and out into the glass window of his living room, “well, I wouldn’t have school of course. And I think it would all depend on how I feel that day. If I was feeling particularly lazy, the day would probably consist of me binge-watching shows in bed while eating a shitton of carbs. And the other case would probably be galavanting around the city or going to an amusement park with friends.”

Jimin listens intently and smiles as you speak, causing you to avoid his stare before pigment threatened to rush to your cheeks, “Both of those scenarios sound really nice. I better be included too.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to hide the grin creeping up your cheeks, “We’ll see.”

He groans, standing up from his spot on the floor and falling onto his couch instead, “My asscheeks hurt.”

Your face contorts into a look of disgust, “And you want me to do what with that information?”

Scoffing lightly, he leans back into the cushions and tilts his head back, “It was a declaration, not a cry for help.”

“Yeah, and it’s the bony ass for me.”

His head perks up. “It’s having a flatter ass than their guy best friend for me.”

Gulping down the sad but unequivocal truth, “It’s kissing up to every teacher’s ass for me.”

His eyes narrow in pure chagrin, “It’s the crying on your teacher’s doorstep for them to round your grade for me.”

“It’s splitting your pants on orientation day for me.”

“Fuck you, people would pay to see this ass! It’s getting a concussion from falling down the main hall stairs for me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you that they waxed the floors that day!” You snap back.

“Okay, and who said it was a good idea to walk down three flights of stairs while trying to cram for a midterm? Yeah, exactly no one.” He says incisively, giving you an even bigger urge to push him off of the couch, yet you digress. 

“This could go on for hours.” You heave out.

“Is that the sound of someone giving up I’m hearing?”

“Is that the sound of a midget I’m hearing?”

“But I’m taller than you?!” He screeches petulantly, smacking your shoulder. You burst out into a fit of laughter—toppling onto the wooden floor with pure malice. 

Gasping for air, you attempt to stifle your laughter and regain your breath. “Wow, I’m on a roll today! I deserve another shot.”

He shakes his head, his anger quelling at the sight of your giddiness. “Remind me to not let you drink and play this game.”

You turn over from your side to lay on your back. “This will be the first and the last time I play this game with you.” You say almost immediately—the words involuntarily slipping from your mouth before you could stop it. 

He sinks in his spot on the couch, brows knitting at your comment. “Why?”

Sobriety crashes into you like a colossal wave —your irritation dissipates almost immediately. The exaggerated tone your voice begins to register through your head—as well as the fact that you sounded a lot more disapproving than you intended. 

Groaning at your hindered ability to think and process properly, you attempt to clear the air, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. We just... practically know everything about each other I guess. What else is there to know?”

He hums. “You sure about that?”

What? “Wait what?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles awkwardly, “next question.”

The straightforwardness of the next question causes you to quirk a brow, “How are you, really?”

His eyes widen. “Well, that’s a deep one, isn’t it?”

You smile. “A little.” 

He sighs, a small grin lacing his features, “Hm, how am I,” he affirms, adjusting himself in his spot on the couch, “I feel content with where I am right now, I guess. Things can always be better, but at the same time they could be worse too.”

Your number one defense mechanism as of late has been to constantly tease and make jokes at the poor guy—essentially using him as your own mental punching bag. He went along with it out of the assumption that it was all caused by your stress from school while you knew the true origins of your behavior. 

You smile at his optimism, "Hey, that's always good to hear."

He chuckles, shifting his position on the couch so he could face you directly, "I don't know, maybe it's the new sense of freedom. Or all the amazing people I've gotten to meet and the opportunities that are offered here. Or the fact that I'm still going to the same school as my best friend after all this damn time."

"Chim, don't get sappy on me man." You warn him while pouting exaggeratedly— slumping onto the frame of the couch while he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers. You bask in the moment, your eyes shutting close. 

"Hey, I'm just being honest! For some reason, it all makes up for the impending student debt and draining lectures and professors that have a superiority complex as fat as their paycheck."

"Too bad their paycheck still isn't as fat as your ass."

An audible gasp coming from the only other person in the room causes your eyes to flutter open.

"Aw," he coos, ruffling the hair atop of your head, "that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night. Admit it, you love me."

Out of instinct, you opt to stick your tongue at him instead of replying with a witty comeback. You turn away from him before mumbling to yourself, "More than you'll ever know buddy."

"What was that?"

Shit. "Nothing. Next question!"

-

After twenty questions and a whopping 10 empty soju bottles later, you are quite literally about to implode.

Your eyes stare down at the card in front of you—everything that surrounds it is blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the universe who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The imminent headache was starting to spread towards your temples and you practically felt like you could feel your brain shifting inside your head at this point. Although you felt groggy, you were certain that your heart was at a rate that is way faster than it should be. And sitting on your legs has caused them to lose all feeling from the tips of your toes all the way up to your kneecaps. One attempt at standing and you would come crashing to the floor in a heartbeat.

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known.

To say you were mad was an understatement. Out of all the times throughout the entirety of this hour and a half that you were playing this game, he decided that now would be the best time to use his 'dig deeper' card.

There it was.

Admit something.

"Okay fine, I was the one who stuck pink hair dye in your shampoo last semester."

"Y/N, did you really think I didn't know? C’mon I know there’s something else in there.”

You scowl, brows furrowing, “Why would I keep something from you?”

“Why are you getting so defensive over this?”

"What the hell is there for me to admit to you?" You snap back in exasperation, the harsh tone of your voice rendering the two of you speechless. 

He averts his gaze, closing his eyes while inhaling a deep sigh. "Ever since we started college, why have you been treating me so differently?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, stumped. Yet you refuse to wither out of this. 

 "I– are you mad?"

"No. Of course not," he quickly digresses, softening his gaze, "I just noticed after all this time that you've only been acting differently towards me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong Jimin. You never have."

His eyes narrow, giving you yet another indecipherable look, "I'm using my 'dig deeper' card." He deadpans.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long, to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on you in a variety of different ways.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. But then you assured yourself that you haven't reached that level of patheticism yet.

Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now —practically anyone else could detect was the crickets chirping outside his apartment, yet the only sound that was filling your eardrums was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

This was it. There was no point in trying to weasel yourself out of this situation. If you tried, your more than futile attempt could very well end up causing more problems than if you were to go with the latter.

So instead of constantly wracking your brain with witty banter and deceitful ways to gaslight your feelings for the man sitting in front of you, you come to terms with the fact that your time had run out. You internally commend yourself for putting up a good fight, as well as internally become accosted at how immature you were at handling the whole situation.

You sharply inhale through your nose, peering at the man sitting in front of you as his eyes meet your own, "Alright."

He offers you a small yet empathetic smile in return, giving you the tiniest sliver of reassurance. His hand pats the couch cushion next to him, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You push yourself up from the floor, immediately propping a leg onto the couch to avoid your numb limbs to be the cause of your embarrassment.

You inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. "This is going to sound really absurd. Like more than absurd. Possibly borderline hysterical." No Y/N, why would you say that?

He interjects, placing a hand on your forearm. "I'm beginning to think you're becoming borderline hysterical," he lets out a small chuckle, "slow down Y/N. One thought at a time."

Your jaw is still slack open due to your previous rambling. "I'm sorry, I just—I don't think I've ever felt this anxious… around you at least."

He bites his lip, eyes trailing away from yours as he tries to think of a way to aid you, "Will it help if I turn around?

"Maybe." You reply timidly, smiling to yourself as his back came into view.

“It’ll be pretty funny if we don’t remember this in the morning,” you start off with, “I shouldn’t be saying that either I’m sorry. Stupid alcohol.”

He snickers at your drunken state, it was adorable. “Pretend I’m not here Y/N. Like you’re talking to a wall.” He advises, back still turned. 

You nod although he can’t see you. “Okay. Well, hi Mr. Wall. I’ve been keeping a secret from my best friend for as long as I’ve known him and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve suppressed it all this time in hopes that it would eventually fade away, and it almost did. No really, it actually almost did. But now it’s back again and all the same feelings came, but like freaking twofold. No, tenfold. No, like a hundred fucking fold.”

Jimin tries excruciatingly hard to stifle his laughter, cupping a hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t move and distract you.

“I’m literally in love with my freaking best friend when I know he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever. If he did, we wouldn’t be where we are right now because I am so shitty at hiding my feelings that I am more than certain that I’ve let the truth slip a couple of times.” You say all in one breath.

He slowly detaches his hand from his mouth, eyebrows raising in disbelief in the words you had just said. His body urges him to turn around. Yet you continue to think out loud. So he digresses. 

“Towards the end of high school, I think my feelings started to become more dormant because I had become more concerned over finishing high school and transitioning into college. I was content and I convinced myself that my feelings were fleeting for once.” You begin with, allowing whatever thoughts that you consumed your mind to spill all out for Mr. Wall to hear. 

You sigh, taking a pillow from his couch and squeezing onto it for dear life. “That was until we ended up getting into our top picks and going to the same school. I couldn’t believe it. My stupid head tried to convince me that life had always just paired the two of us up together for some reason. And that maybe, just maybe I had a chance. But whatever I guess. I don’t know.”

A notification causes your eyes to trail to your phone. Really, Professor La, this is not a good time to tell me to finish my research paper. You swipe at the notification, revealing your lock screen—a photo of you and Jimin at an amusement park back at your hometown, sporting matching university hoodies with bright smiles on your faces that were captured mid-laughter.

Setting your phone down, you lean into the couch—letting your head fall into the cushions as your eyelids slowly start to droop shut. “What also didn’t help is how college life just seems to suit him perfectly. He just always looks so happy now. Like yeah, he’s always been a social butterfly. Yet in addition to that he has top notch grades. He charms professors. For fuck’s sake the Dean treats him like a son. His passion, his laughter, his love, his happiness. It’s always been so infectious. But college just made the effect he has on people grow even stronger. I-,” you stammer, pausing breathlessly, “it just looks like he truly belongs here. Like college was just made for him.”

He sits there in a complete stupor—still trying to process all the words that he had just heard. His body is itching to turn around, take you into his arms, whisper soft nothings into your ear. Anythings. Everything. He never wanted you to feel anxious about his feelings for you ever again.  

“Mr. Wall, that was a lot, I’m sorry. But I’m really… really tired.” You utter quietly, a long yawn escaping your lips. You fall asleep. 

Ten seconds pass until Jimin sneaks a glance over his shoulder, scanning your body as he notices your shut eyes and timid grip on his pillow. 

“Y/N?”

You’re unresponsive. 

He grins at the sight. Getting up from his seat, he makes his way toward you—slowly prying the pillow from your grasp as you carefully slides his hands under your body and picks you up from the couch. 

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder as he carries you to his bedroom. You are very much still asleep, yet you always had the habit of needing something to hold onto while you were unconscious. 

Kicking the sheets aside, he makes room for you to lie down as he gently places you onto his bed. He quickly scurries to the other side, slipping into the covers himself as he lays down beside you. 

The sudden contact causes you to shift in your sleep—suddenly wrapping an arm around his torso. He lays there, completely stunned at your actions and begins to heavily debate whether he should give into his desires or not. 

The internal conflict lasts about two seconds before he turns to his side—placing his free hand on the small of your back and pulling you into his chest, leaving a small pocket of space in between your two bodies. 

Unknowingly, you close the gap almost immediately—nestling your head into the crook of his neck as your arm that was lazily slung over his torso starts to tighten its hold around his body. 

His arm slings over your unconscious form, his hands making his way to your back as he basks in the foreign feeling, being this close in proximity to you. It was different. Yet it almost felt like it was where he belonged. And he was scared because he didn’t want it to end. 

While gently placing his chin on the top of your head, he begins to stroke your hair as fatigue starts to wash over him as well. “Things will make sense soon Y/N, I swear.”

He retracts, craning his neck in an attempt to see your sleeping form. His attempt proves to be futile when an indecipherable groan leaves your lips—brows knitting slightly and lips curling downward from the sudden lack of warmth. 

His soft laughter fills the room as he obliges—carefully pressing a small kiss to your forehead before reverting back to his original position. 

“For now, just know that I love you too.”

-

The intolerable throbbing sensation in your temples caused you to stir in your sleep.

The only events you could recall from last night was being at Jimin’s apartment, playing that stupid card game, and downing the most soju you’ve ever had in one sitting.

It only occurs to you that you’re wrapped in someone’s arms when you open your eyes and the only thing in your periphery is a firm chest, steadily heaving each time they take a breath.

Your legs were messily entangled with theirs—arms slung around each other’s torsos as you felt a strange yet dense weight on the top of your head.

Carefully, you try to pry yourself from their grasp albeit your haphazard state of mind. You pull back ever so slightly, making sure not to wake them up in the process, discovering that the excess weight was actually their chin that had been resting on top of your head. Their fingers were still twined in your hair as you pulled back, making you freeze in your spot. Curious, you tilt your head, peering upwards and catching a glimpse of their face.

The boy is undoubtedly still asleep. Eyes shut and ample lips slightly parted. Your timid movement, to your luck, which hadn’t phased him in the slightest, as he was unperceptive and nearly immobile at this point. 

If it weren't for your abhorrent headache and the even more abhorrent symptoms that had rooted from your hangover, it would be an understatement to say that you would be freaking out right about now.  In reality,

You'd be in a complete state of manic.

Because of the fact that your body was paying for the despicable amount of alcohol you had decided to consume the night before, an influx of any intense emotion would cause your body to exacerbate itself even more. And the last thing you needed was to puke all over the poor guy after sleeping together for the first time.

While you were physically experiencing withdrawals, your mind felt slightly inebriated nonetheless. You weren't quite sure if it was from last night's affluence of liquor or the way everything's starting to come back to you. And the longer your eyes linger on the boy's face, the clearer everything starts to become. From the foolish banter to your childish outbursts leading up to your intoxicated yet conscientious confession.

You left your heart all out for him to witness last night, and now the only thing you could do is wait for a response.

Taking a deep sigh, you retreat back to his body—deciding not to ponder any longer on the matter and wait until you had felt physically capable of doing so. 

-

Steaming hot streams of water splash against his back. He stands under the shower head while massaging soap into his hair, replaying the events that had happened last night on loop. 

The words that left your mouth were engraved into his mind as they involuntarily kept replaying over and over again—particularly your inebriated confession, which kept garnering the same reaction of both hope and frustration within him. 

The solution should be simple. In reality it is, yet he still felt so internally scattered. 

“—he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever...”

That was the singular line that he just couldn’t wrap his head around. There was never a moment where he would hesitate to drop everything he was doing to be there for you and make sure you were okay. 

Yes, he knew that you two were best friends and that it was natural. But what best friend drives across town at 2am because you had the stomach flu and your parents were out of town. Keep in mind it was his mom’s birthday that day. 

What best friend ditches their prom date when yours had stood you up. Or coax the drama teacher into giving you the lead in the school play because he saw the ways your eyes glimmered when you saw the words ‘High School Musical’. And damn, weren’t you justthe greatest Gabriella he’s ever seen.

Little did you know that in reality, he always wanted you to be the Gabriella to his Troy, and not Chad. Yet you seemed to have believed the latter all along. 

But in the end, what the hell kind of best friend remains oblivious to the fact that for years, past exes have consistently broken up with him for the same reason.

“Your heart belongs to someone else.”

Or alternatively,

“I’m not the right person for you.”

Straight A’s don’t mean shit when no teacher has ever taught him how to realize that he was irrevocably in love with his best friend, and that she had always, almost candidly, felt the same way.

He shuts his eyes tightly, hands aggressively running through his soaked hair as he comes to a conclusion. 

Being strangers could never be an option. Being friends, or moreso, best friends was fine. But that’s it. It was just fine. It was normalcy. It has been for years.

And that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore.

-

Your arm traces along the fabric of the bedsheets, alerting you that there was a void of space and lack of warmth from the other side of the bed. Your eyes spring open to see that there was no one laying beside you. 

A long yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, body sprawling all over the bed before selfishly tugging the sheets all to yourself. 

Soft hissing from which you assume was coming from his shower was confirmed to be true when your eyes spot the closed bathroom door and the small beam of light that was emitting from it. 

A small, folded piece of paper that was taking up the space of where his head was resting was where your eyes shift to next. 

y/n <3

You knit your brows together, knowing that it was most likely put there strategically rather than a piece of trash that had slipped out of his pocket.

It was addressed to you after all and so you grab it while making a futile attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your throbbing headache and churning insides had significantly died down. Regardless of your recovery time you internally make a promise to yourself to never get this wasted ever again. The chances of you sticking to it?  Highly debatable considering the current situation you’re in. 

Blinking rapidly, you finally are able to decipher whatever is written onto the paper. And it says:

hi y/n, i can already tell by the looks that you’re giving me that you already despise this game and im sorry. all i wanna say is that by the time you read this, i hope that we remain close as ever even though what i plan on saying tonight could obliterate all of that. i wanted to play this game bc i know we’re both hiding stuff from each other and it’s about time we get it out. at least for me. whatever happens, i love you. always will. 

- chim :)

EDIT: for fuck’s sake y/n i’m FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU TOO I WAS SUPPOSED TO CONFESS TO U FIRST LOSER NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND T-T

-

“Finally awake?” You hear a familiar voice call out. He walks out of the bathroom, fully clothed (to your dismay) while drying his hair with a towel, eyes immediately softening as they connect with yours. 

You swallow down your nerves, “Yeah, I’ve been.”

He walks over to the edge of the bed, eyes shifting to the piece of paper in your hand before reverting his focus back to your face, “What are you reading there?” 

“I don’t know,” you huff, feigning ignorance, “why don’t you tell me.”

A soft chortle leaves his lips as he throws the towel to the side, smiling as wide as ever as he jumps onto the vacant spot on his bed right next to you.

Propping himself up, he sits against the headboard, letting out a content sigh before looking down at you once more. “Come here.” He says, reaching his arms out in hopes that you’d fill the idle gap.

And you do, shaking the sheets off of your body as you place yourself in his arms, freshly revelling in the comfort. You wrap your arms snugly around his waist, letting your head rest on his chest while he clutches onto you tightly. 

“I’m sorry for pushing the subject so hard onto you last night.” He starts off with, “I guess I just never fathomed the fact that you could return the feeling, and I was too stubborn to even admit it to you in the first place.” He expresses while stroking your back,  “I didn’t mean to confront you so harshly, it’s unlike me, and I’m really sorry about it Y/N.”

“Do you think I’m mad about that Jimin?” You inquire, just barely above a whisper.

He pulls back slightly, peering down at you, “Are you?”

“Of course not. I should be the one apologizing anyways for being even more stubborn and resorting to such childish ways.” You disclose whilst mentally beating yourself up.

“Hey, there’s no use in beating ourselves up over it. Look where we are now.” 

“Where exactly are we Jimin?” You inquire timidly, head still resting on his chest. 

His fingers brush over the base of your chin, gently tilting your head up until your eyes found his. 

“Y/N, it’s honestly hard for me to formulate the words but all I know is that I think I’m in love with you. And I think I have been for a long time, no scratch that, I have been for a long time,” he says all in one breath, making you smile at how high-strung he was acting. 

The grin remains plastered onto your face, “I’m not drunk still right because did I just hear you say that you’ve been in love with me?”

“Y/N…” he whines, jutting out his bottom lip as he drags out the last syllable of your name.

You can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Go on please.” 

He bites his lip, “I honestly had a whole speech prepared in the shower but I forgot all of it.”

“It’s alright, I barely remember half the stuff I spewed out last night,” you chortle.

He chuckles, “Well, if you were wondering, you’re cute as fuck when you’re piss drunk.”

The compliment makes your breath hitch in your throat—your heart starting to pick up speed dangerously quick.

A few seconds pass, allowing you to slightly gain back some of your composure, “Why did you um– I mean– when do you think you fell in love with me?” You stutter. 

“I was actually trying to figure that out too,” he starts, “in the shower. Well, this is going to sound dumb,” he admits, sharply exhaling out of his nose, “But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time.”

“I think so… but what about it?”

He nods. “I still remember that night so vividly for some reason,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “There were haunted houses all over the park. And they were all different themes. And I think the first one we went into together was—”

“The clown one.” You deadpan. 

“Yeah!” He beams, laughing at the way you shudder after your words, “Anyways, you were walking behind me with your hands on my shoulders, but you had a razor grip and I thought my arms were going to fall off, so I made you walk next to me instead. We had our arms interlocked and you were gripping onto me so closely and you had your head buried in my shoulder the whole time.” He explains, the smile never ceasing to leave his lips.

You don’t take his eyes off of him—smiling sweetly as he explains the retrospective moment that you never knew had held so much significance to him.

“All of a sudden, you grabbed my hand, and honestly, I think that was the scariest part of the whole experience,” he admits, chuckling softly. 

“But then I intertwined fingers with you. And I liked it. Thinking about it now, I probably loved it. It felt almost borderline euphoric. Like as if I was riding a high, and when we detached hands, it felt like there was just something missing. And I guess I never really put the pieces together because it just became a normal thing after that. And when our skinship kept evolving from there, I just kept dismissing it over and over again. Like as if that feeling was a normal thing to happen between friends, because I genuinely thought it was. Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.” He finishes, giving you a close-mouthed smile while he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

Astounded was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that you both had been suppressing these feelings for so long. Yet somehow, this whole confession didn’t seem out of place or time, it was as if everything that had happened beforehand had led up to this very moment. 

“Wow, Jimin I– I don’t know what to say.” You reply.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I’m sorry for making you wait for so long, after all.”

You interject, “Please don’t say sorry, I think we were definitely both in the wrong here.”

He smiles, except this time his eyes crinkle up all the way, “Alright, but can you at least let me make it up to you?”

“I’m listening.” You jokingly reply.

“Let’s go on a date,” he declares brazenly, “but tonight, after we’ve recovered from our hangovers and what not.”

The corners of your lips upturn so high that your cheekbones sting, “Jimin, I’d love to–”

“Ah, wait! I’m not done.” He cuts you off, head inching forward, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath tickle your ear and the heat rushing up to your cheeks. 

“And at the very end of the night, I’ll make certain that you won’t be able to walk normally by tomorrow.” He whispers into your ear— voice low and full of lust.

Shivers run through your body as it feels like all the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. Yeah, this was definitely worth the wait.

-

-

-

MASTERLIST ; SEQUEL

[loneworldgazer]

Animator!Y/N

karasuno x gen!reader, hinata x reader

a/n: people who do animation, just take my whole heart pls

this felt like a proper fic but sorry if it's short,,

(please reblog darlings)

yachi first started being curious about you since you were one of the teacher's pet, always lingering around the art teacher asking questions with a tablet in hand

she was nosy, she had to admit

she wanted to sneak a glance whenever you drew on your tablet and you would glance at her if she wants to take a look but she managed to look away before you saw

but she finally founds out what you're doing when some students partake in presentation (even if you didn't want to, the teacher liked you so you had to) and you presented yours

her little heart couldn't handle her excitement when fluid carefully drawn animation popped up on the screen and you looked at your hard work with pride

whatever subject was in the animation you discussed about it with the class and you couldn't help but of course notice the crooked smile that yachi had

she was impressed and filled with so much undescribable feelings, she could cry with how astonishing your work is

after art class yachi decided to approach you and ask a bunch of questions to you and you had the pleasure to answer all of them

you also wanted to cry because of how hyper of a puppy was when yachi would bounce up and down when you started describing about your work and how she would apologize if she was being too excited which you would shake your head to and laugh

you started exchanging numbers and you saved her under "gal who won't stop staring", of course you noticed

she couldn't hide it,,

after finding out where she was after school so you could ask her about art projects or catching up when you're absent, you started going to the club a lot more to also see the boys

they would always see you sliding into the gym and going to one of their managers and asking yachi about something

which they didn't mind much, the simpy duo thought you were stealing her away which you teased them by putting an arm around her as she laughs and says "there was nothing to worry about, y/n doesn't bite"

the whole team suprisingly loves to see your work especially hinata since he would make sound affects for your characters if you haven't added any audio yet

he would leap when your character does a transition or the scenery changes and he would gush about how cool you and your animation were

you, hinata and yachi would walk home admiring your work and yachi would also pull out her drawing as well to show both of you

hinata were both your hype man, he would compliment and point out every detail he loves

(i'm also convinced he has made doodles but they would look wonky but cute)

and since you two were close you always had sleepovers!!

usually it was at hinata's house so you could bond with natsu and she was entertained by your animations that you set up on your projecter

sometimes hinata's mom would pop up and see how it goes and she appreaciates having you over since you were such a kind and close friend of hinata that matches his energy

it was such a blast, stuffing yourselves with snacks and chortling till midnight which hinata's mom would try to shush all of you but she couldn't help but join in because it was so much fun

you would all have headaches though the next day buuut it was worth it~~

whenever you feel out of it, yachi's there

she would always be there to give you snacks or ask you take a few breaks if you worked too much

she would try to scold you and you just can't help but follow because it would be mean of you to ignore her words

and oh they were so wise

it helped you through times when she wasn't even there and it was good that you followed so you didn't hurt your mental health from the get go

now to timeskip,,

T I M E S K I P :

you were an independant animator animating part of your manga with your crew which you grouped together with your friend who was the boss of everything

you felt proud of yourself since you reached a long way,

how your parent/s didn't suppprt you from the start to how stress swallows you whenever you were near a deadline to how people complain if their request wasn't fulfilled to their liking,

yes, you still experienced it but it was a lot more better now than your highschool years telling you to shut up about your dreams

here you were animating frame by frame of your own creation,

what exactly was your manga about?

volleyball :))

yachi and karasuno's volleyball team has inspired you so much about how much team work and pain they went through and your heart stop whenever you remember

your big inspo, yachi who would never stop babbling about you and being right by your side when you need it

you might cry on the tablet you're drawing on which make your crew question on what are you crying about but you held back which also made your crew question why were you smiling so hard

nonetheless, you were almost happy everyday because you could reminisce with the ideas yachi gave you back then which you still kept dearly because they were great plot points

and how you stick close to each character no matter how goofy or chaotic they were, they had a lesson for each time they appear and dissappear

that's how the stadium smelled like, the colours and the adrenaline you felt by cheers from the crowds, you felt like you could fly right now with how much you wanted to scream the team's name and let them notice you

it smelled like the victory the monster duo had, it filled you with so much glee to watch them gain fans from the sidelines

you also felt hinata and kageyama's pride swelling and you could knock your chair over if you kept this up

there he was the orange haired boy who used to be your biggest fan standing in front of you who now has a lot more fans trailing behind him

eventhough he smelled musky and felt sweaty you can't control the urge to hug him and he also can't too

you later hugged kageyama and just spilled all your excitement to both of them on how well the matches went and hinata couldn't resist hugging you again and twirling you around

he planned on telling you all about your manga and how he haven't catched up on it yet on some of it and a pang struck your heart as you teared up which confused hinata

ah, he still remembered

"are you crazy, of course i did!" his boyish laughter was louder than your sobs when he rested your head on his chest and pushed him off, complaining about how sweaty he was

oh you silly goose, of course he did

you also met up with the rest and tumbled into yachi when she appeared around the corner and everyone laughed it out

either of you got a headache as you both help each other up

hinata and kageyama would stand near the third years who held their hearts and congratulated them

which kageyama would smile and nod while hinata would still bashfully scratch his neck while happily thanking them because his seniors were proud of him

you would take a selfie with yachi and hinata, yachi would be the one leaping off the ground and eventhough the picture was a little blurry atleast you could catch both of their smiles

the next time you meet up, hinata was there in his comfy clothes melting into all the pillows you pelted at him and you snuggled right next to him when you both were fresh out the shower

just like the old times, how he would wrap around your arm and yachi would be on your left doing the same

except this time, you were the one snuggling onto hinata's arm

you felt kinda sad that yachi couldn't join since she was really busy

but hinata interrupted your thoughts with a screech when you whipped your head back to see what he was doing

the television showed your blood sweat and tears of the countless projects and art that you did about it, dropping your head on hinata's shoulder as not even a second in, you got a series of shout and yells of eagerness from him

"i added a reference of you somewhere~" "huh! really? did you add kageyama?? he'll text me about it later-"

and the night was drowning in the amounts of laughter and euphoria you two shared,

the number 2 who supports you will always be the number 1 in your heart

[classyklancey]

Shining Star

Pairing: Keith Kogane x Lance Mcclain Genre: fluff, angst Warnings: mentions of Keith getting drunk and getting high, Keith gets into a fight because duh, it’s Keith Summary: Keith has always been a quick learner when it comes to bad habits. Luckily for him, Lance comes along and brightens his dark life up. Word Count: 5k words A/N: this fic is based on the song Shining Star by Bebe Rexha if you want to give it a listen before or while you read the fic!! :) Also THIS GIF IS SO GOOD FOR MY FIC I-

Keith has always been a quick learner. 

After his dad died at a young age, he quickly learned firsthand just how the real world worked. He picked up some nasty habits along the way from the many foster parents he was placed with. Said nasty habits were the reason he was jumping from home to home. For instance, hitting others when they don’t share or understand your point of view. Yeah, Keith also learned how to fight pretty early on. Thank you, adoptive dad number two. 

It was like this until Keith was adopted by Shiro’s family. Third time’s the charm, Keith reckons. They were the first and only people to ever genuinely care for him the way a family should. They didn’t hit him. They didn’t yell at him for minor accidents. They didn’t get annoyed or angry when he cried or wanted to be alone. 

It was the first time in Keith’s life since he lost his dad that he’s been genuinely happy. 

Well, that is until Shiro went missing. He just up and vanished with no warning whatsoever. Keith can’t even remember the last thing he said to him. Probably Shiro wishing him a good day at school and in response, Keith rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” Keith is sure it was something dumb, but no matter how hard he thinks about it, he can’t seem to remember. 

To say Keith got back into bad business was an understatement. It’s one thing to have your happiness ripped away from you and then thrown into the burning dumpster full of rabid raccoons that was his life, but to have it happen twice?

Keith couldn’t handle it. 

Looking back on it, he wishes he would’ve just mourned like other kids. You know, the whole crying, therapy, talking to loved ones, or literally any other way of grieving. What did Keith have to go do though? Fighting, again. Not just that though. Oh, no, no, that would make Keith’s life easier. Instead, he also turned to getting high and drunk whenever he could. As a freshman, that definitely wasn’t ideal. For anyone.

It wasn’t until Lance came along that changed his life for the nth time. If it wasn’t for Lance, Keith doesn’t know where he would’ve ended up or what would’ve happened to him. 

Lance moved to Keith’s high school at the end of both of their freshman years. Keith was actually the first person that Lance talked to on his first day. Keith had science first period, meaning he had to sit at his lab table by himself, which he never minded because he hates people anyway. 

But because no one wanted to sit by him, it was the only seat available. 

So there Lance was, a giant smile on his face and sparkling ocean blue eyes as he took the empty stool next to Keith. “Hi, my name is Lance. What’s yours?” he asks as he holds out his hand for him to shake. Keith glances at Lance’s face, to his hand, and then back at his face before focusing on what he was doodling in his notebook before Lance arrived. 

He didn’t reply to the new kid, letting Lance’s untouched hand slowly drop back to the desk after a pregnant pause. “Okay, then. Guess your name is Mullet.” This promptly grabs Keith’s attention. 

“Excuse me?” he hisses, squinting his eyes at the boy. Lance just grins at him though, to Keith’s surprise. He’s so used to people being scared of him or literally trying to knock his teeth out. Not smiling. What is with the new kid? 

“Well, if you’re not going to give me a name, I’m just going to call you Mullet,” Lance quips with a smirk now, his eyes shining with mirth. Keith could almost laugh at how ridiculous this all is. 

“Yeah, no. My name is Keith,” Keith replies with a slight huff before looking out the window to his left. 

“See? Was that so hard?” Lance teases him. Before Keith could reply, their lesson began. 

Keith quickly learned after that that Lance is very competitive. Specifically with Keith. He even jokingly called Keith his ‘rival.’ Keith always pretended to be annoyed or irked when Lance talked to him or even breathed the word ‘rival’ but in reality, Keith secretly liked having Lance around. He was his first friend in a long time. He was also the one to straighten Keith’s act out, despite it being a secret from the boy himself. Keith would rather die than let Lance know about the person he used to be. 

Lance was quick to make other friends, but that never stopped him from sitting with Keith at lunch or walking home with Keith after school. After a year of this though, Lance slowly started filtering in his other friends into Keith’s life. At the beginning of their sophomore year, Keith met Lance’s friend Hunk. Hunk is pretty chill because he doesn’t talk as much as Lance does and he’s always sharing his home-cooked meals at lunch with both of them. 

After Hunk, Keith met Pidge at the end of their sophomore year. Keith also liked Pidge because she is overall pretty quiet. Much like Keith, she only speaks when spoken to, if she has a sarcastic or sassy reply, or if she has a jab to make at someone. She can also hang out with Keith and doesn’t have the need to talk the entire time, which he appreciates. 

It was just the four of them for their sophomore year. Sure, they, minus Keith and kind of Pidge, had other friends but the four of them were thicker than thieves. They did everything together. 

The summer before their junior year though is when things started to change. For Keith, at least. Why? Because Keith had to go and get feelings for Lance like an idiot. He just couldn’t help himself. Lance was always so sure of himself and talked to Keith like no one ever has before. He learned things about Lance that not many others knew. Keith learned that Lance loves to play inside the rain. When Keith and Lance were walking home together after school one day, it had started to rain and Lance didn’t hesitate to shrug off his backpack and start twirling in the droplets falling down onto him. When Keith had asked him what he was doing, Lance looked at him as if he were crazy. 

“Uh, dancing? What does it look like?” he replies sassily with a big smile before going right back to dancing to nonexistent music. The way he moved was hypnotizing to Keith. 

“I can see that, but why?” Keith tries again, hoping for the clarification that he seeks this time. Lance stops in front of him and tilts his head back up from where it was thrown back, smiling at Keith with that charismatic smile of his. 

“Dance with me,” Lance commands as he tries to pull Keith’s backpack off. Keith can’t help but laugh at Lance’s shenanigans, trying to pull his body away from Lance’s while smacking at his hands reaching for his bag. 

“No!” Keith shouts with laughter, a big smile stretching across his face. He doesn’t even notice the smile. He’s gotten so used to doing that around Lance. 

“C’mon! Don’t be a loser!” 

“I’m not the loser here!” 

“Keith!” Lance whines his name, stretching out the letters. 

“Lance!” Keith replies, still laughing. His chest feels so light that he’s afraid he’ll start floating away. 

Lance finally stops but gives Keith the look. He pushes his bottom lip out into a pout while making his eyes all big and round. He knows it’s near impossible for Keith to ignore it. “No! We are going to get sick!” Keith argues against the look. Lance just gets closer to Keith though, making it hard for Keith to think with how close he is to him. 

“Keith,” Lance whines again just like earlier but it’s softer, weaker. Keith groans and throws his backpack off, making it land right beside Lance’s. Lance cheers and does a couple of jumps before quickly grabbing Keith’s hands. Keith has never danced before in his life so along with that and the way Lance is holding his hands, Keith is so nervous that he thinks his heart might give out from how fast it’s beating. 

Luckily for Keith though, Lance just swings their arms from side to side as they spin around, humming and then singing whatever song that comes to mind. Once they finally come to a stop, they just stand there holding hands while staring into each other’s eyes. 

“It reminds me of home,” Lance says suddenly. This knocks Keith out of his daydream. 

“What?” 

“Earlier, you asked me why I was dancing in the rain. It reminds me of home, of Cuba.” A reminiscent smile comes to Lance’s face while a dopey one comes to Keith’s. He just has it so bad for him it’s ridiculous. Before Keith can comment on this new information, Lance continues. “I think it’s the smell, you know? Like, there’s always that smell during and after it rains. It reminds me of the ocean, somehow, despite it not having the same saltiness. It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

Keith finds himself shaking his head. “No, no. It’s not weird. It’s cute.” He didn’t mean to say ‘cute’ but it was already out there and he couldn��t take it back now. He thinks he starts to see some red come to Lance’s cheeks, but he can’t really tell since not a second later, Lance is dashing towards their backpacks. 

“Race ya home!” he screams before snatching his bag up off the wet concrete and running in the direction of their houses without a heads up. 

“Cheater!” Keith shouts after him as he copies him before running as fast as his legs will carry him. They run until they reach their break-off point, where Keith has to go to the left whereas Lance has to go to the right. Lance gets there first because he, obviously, is a cheater. He jumps up and hits the street sign with a shout before landing back on his feet. He almost slips from how wet the ground is, but he saves himself. He tries to laugh victoriously, but both of them are too out of breath to do their usual banter after doing something competitive. 

It takes only a minute for Lance to roar after a deep breath, “Keith: 68! Lance: 69! And we all know what that means!” Keith swallows down air as he stands up straight and raises his brow up at Lance. 

“What?” he asks, puzzled. 

“What? What do you mean ‘what?’ It’s sixty-nine! You know what that is, right?” Lance shouts, acting as if Keith had personally insulted him. 

“Uh, it’s a number?” Keith guesses, trying to search his brain for a secret meaning, but he doesn’t find one. Lance groans and fixes his backpack that he had haphazardly thrown on earlier while he was running. 

“You’re such a loser, Keith!” Lance teases, starting to walk down the sidewalk that veers off to the right. 

“Am not! Also, where’d you learn how to count? I’m at seventy!” This instantly causes Lance to stop and spin around on his heel. 

“Kindergarten and I’m right!” 

“No, you aren’t! I’m right!” 

They go back and forth as they slowly back up from each other, going in the direction of their homes. They keep at it until they can no longer hear each other, each of them taking that as a win on their own parts. 

Along with Keith learning new things about Lance, Lance was also learning things about Keith. He, unfortunately, had found out about some of Keith’s dark past, and, of course, James Griffin of all people was the one to spill the beans. It was one of the only days that Keith had missed since he became friends with Lance. Lance was what Keith liked to call a good boy. He had perfect grades, not as good as Keith’s though once he straightened up his act which is another reason Lance went all ‘rival’ on him, he liked to read, had a good sleeping schedule, and the list goes on. This was another reason why Keith never wanted Lance to know about his past. He’d be so disappointed in him, maybe even disgusted or scared. 

So, when Lance came knocking on his door that day, he trudged out of his bed with his comforter wrapped tightly around him to go answer the door. The first thing Keith is greeted with is Lance going, “Oh wow, you look terrible.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Keith replies sarcastically as he moves away from the door. He doesn’t bother waiting for Lance to come in. He decides that Lance is a big enough boy to close the door himself and walks straight for the couch. He lets his legs hit the armrest before tumbling face-first into the plush cushions. Letting his eyelids fall shut, he would’ve gone back to his nap had Lance not taken a seat next to his head. 

“You should’ve told me you were sick,” Lance says softly, gently picking Keith’s head up and setting it into his lap to comb his fingers through Keith’s hair. He doesn’t know why Lance wants to touch his knotty, greasy hair, but he doesn’t stop him. He blames the flush of his cheeks on being sick, letting his eyes fall closed again. He only responds to Lance with a grunt and a sniffle. He almost falls asleep again until Lance speaks up again. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something, but it can wait. I didn’t realize you were so sick,” Lance says softly. 

Keith lets out a long hum before grunting out a single word. “Talk.” Lance laughs at this but then goes quiet again, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. 

“So, um, I talked to James Griffin today,” he starts off but doesn’t get to continue. Keith instantly pops his eyes open and turns his head to look up at Lance. 

“What?” he croaks out, throat suddenly going dry. If Keith had the energy, he would’ve sat up and looked angrier. But he doesn’t. So, he just lays there like a purring cat with half-lidded eyes, a runny nose, a dry throat, and a growling stomach on Lance’s lap. 

“Yeah. He, um, told me some stuff. Said I ‘ought to know some things…” Lance says in the softest voice Keith has ever heard. Keith instantly feels like crying, which is definitely out of character for him. He blames all the medicine he took earlier and the fact that he’s exhausted. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith replies immediately after thickly swallowing. Lance frowns at him when he says this, his hand still soothingly scratching at Keith’s head coming to a stop. 

“Why are you sorry? The dude’s a jerk and deserves to be punched in the face,” Lance reassures with a huff. Keith ends up laughing for some reason, which then leads to him practically coughing up a lung. Lance pats at Keith’s back before rubbing at it through the comforter that Keith still has tightly wrapped around him. “Can I...ask? About your past, I mean.” When Keith doesn’t instantly reply to his inquiry, Lance swiftly starts backtracking. “I mean, only if you want to! Feel free to completely ignore that! It’s not even any of my business anywa—”

“My mother died when I was a baby and my dad died when I was still just a kid,” Keith starts, ready to give his usual spiel. This time though, he opened up a lot more than he has to really anyone other than Shiro. He told him things that he hadn’t even confessed to himself yet. 

When Keith finishes, the first thing Lance says is, “You used to play with fire?” he asks, his jaw dropped with his eyes bugging out of his head. Keith laughs only to just end up coughing again. They talk until Keith’s growling stomach can no longer be ignored, Lance deciding that he’ll make him some classic chicken noodle soup using a mix of Lance’s mom’s and Hunk’s recipes. 

It wasn’t until junior year actually started that things started going to go downhill again. Keith can’t even be surprised though. This always happens to him. Right when he thinks he can finally be happy again, something comes and ruins that. 

That something is named Allura, Lance’s apparent ‘one true love,’ as Lance likes to call her. She’s your typical perfect girl. She’s on the cheerleading team, she is the student body president, and she’s even the daughter of the principal. It doesn’t make sense to Keith. Shouldn’t people not like her? 

No matter what Keith thought of her though, Lance was smitten and of course he is. When she was roped into their friend group, even Keith started to like her despite her being his literal enemy. Lance always flirted with her, but luckily, she always just teases him or brushes him off. It still angers Keith though. He’s selfish. He wants all of Lance’s attention. He wants to be the one being flirted with, complimented, stared at, everything. Keith wants it to be him. 

The day that Allura agreed to go on a date with Lance, Keith had apparently gone out and gotten drunk. He doesn’t remember it but according to his friends, he was blackout drunk so it makes sense that he wouldn’t remember any of it. The only reason they had even found out about Keith’s drunkenness is because he had called Lance in the middle of his date. Lance didn’t really say what Keith said but he just clarified that, “Yes, you were blackout drunk and I called Hunk and Pidge to go get you before you hurt yourself.”

After that night, Lance kept some distance between the two. Keith never reached out to him though. He didn’t want to hear about how perfect Allura looked or how the date went. He didn’t want to hear that Lance got his wish and he’s dating Allura now. So, Keith kept himself numb. He got back into old habits. It started off with just drinking. Then, he added getting high to the list. Then, the fights returned. 

Drinking and smoking you can usually hide pretty well. Fights though? Not so much. 

All it took was James Loud-Mouth Griffin saying something about Lance. Keith can’t even remember what he said. All he knows is he didn’t like it and all he saw was red. He had tackled him in the hallway and just started punching his face. Now he really only saw red with how much blood there was. Yeah, Keith had broken his nose. He doesn’t even feel the slightest bit of guilt about it either. James has always been a bully, so in Keith’s mind, he deserved a taste of his own medicine. 

No one did a thing to stop Keith either, not that people didn’t want to though. They just could see the look in Keith’s eye, how he would turn his fists on anyone who had tried to stop him. It wasn’t until Lance ran to the scene and pulled Keith off of James that he finally stopped. Keith could barely hear Lance calling his name with how loud his heart was pounding in his ears. He turned to whoever had pulled him off of James, ready to hit whoever it is. He paused with his bloodied knuckles raised, freezing when he saw Lance’s startled face. He didn’t look scared though. Well, not of Keith. What he’d done though is a different story. 

Neither of them got to say anything though before Keith was being dragged away by two teachers to the principal’s office where he was then expelled. Keith couldn’t find it in him to care though. Nothing mattered anymore. Shiro is gone, his parents are disappointed in him again, Lance doesn’t talk to him anymore. Lance doesn’t love him the way Keith loves Lance. That’s probably what hurt the most. Keith felt as if he was being dragged deeper and deeper underwater and no matter how much he struggled or screamed, no one was going to save him. Nobody could save him. Guess that’s why Keith keeps doing this to himself though, maybe he likes the pain. His world is crumbling around him and yet he does nothing to fix it, to put the pieces back together. 

It took about a week for Lance to finally come to his house and see him, not that Keith was expecting him to still be his friend after what he did to James. Of course the first thing Lance does when he sees Keith is make a joke. It’s just who he is. 

“I know I said that someone should punch James in his face, but I don’t think I meant that many times.” It’s meant to be playful and bring light laughter, but neither of them even crack a smile. Lance just looks sheepish and uncomfortable standing before Keith. 

Keith just sighs and moves to the side to let Lance inside. Lance walks in and then instantly heads up for Keith’s room. Keith follows him up and then slowly closes his bedroom door to give them more room to talk privately. “I didn’t think you’d come,” Keith confesses as he watches Lance sit down on his bed. Lance hums and looks down at his hands clasped together between his legs. 

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to,” he admits. A heavy pause happens before Lance sighs and keeps going, “I’m just not sure of who you are anymore. You’re not the Keith I know.” Keith can’t help but to scoff at this. 

“And who is that? With Allura around you haven’t seemed to care about me,” Keith replies snarkily. He’s not sure why he is acting like this when Lance is reaching a hand out to him, offering it to help Keith from the deep depths of water that he’s slowly sinking down into. 

Lance’s brows furrow at Keith’s words, his face scrunching up as if he just tasted something bad. “Allura? What does she have to do with this?” He seems to answer his own question if his face of realization has any say of that. “You’re jealous!” he shouts, pointing a finger accusingly at Keith. 

“What? I am not! Why are you being crazy?” Keith shouts back as he crosses his arms over his chest, trying to force the blush he can feel rising to his cheeks away. 

“You are! You totally are!” 

“I am not, Lance!” 

“You don’t remember do you?” This makes Keith pause, his arms falling back to his sides. 

“Remember what?” Keith asks, fear slipping into every corner of his mind. What did he do? 

“The night you got drunk when I had a date with Allura. I thought it was a coincidence, but you meant to get drunk. Didn’t you?” he accuses. Keith scoffs and finds his arms back over his chest again. 

“I didn’t.”

“You did!”

“And why, pray tell, would I do that?” Keith counters with a roll of his eyes. 

“Because you’re in love with me,” Lance says, suddenly losing his confidence and averting his eyes. Keith almost falls over when he hears this. What? 

“I’m not,” Keith lies, hoping that his stutter doesn’t make the lie obvious. Lance doesn’t immediately reply though, to Keith’s both horror and gratitude. 

“You told me you do. That night,” Lance confesses. Keith thinks he might actually be sick now. He shakes his head rapidly, his hands squeezing his biceps to help steady him to earth. 

“No, I…” he trails off. Did he? He, honest to god, can’t remember most of that night, let alone what he told Lance over the phone. 

Lance clears his throat before saying, “You, um, called me when Allura and I were at dinner. I excused myself and stepped away from the table to answer it. I knew that you knew that I was on a date, so I assumed it was an emergency since you didn’t just text me. But you were…” he trails off, trying to find the right words. 

“I was what?” Keith asks, his throat suddenly going dry as his fear comes back. 

Lance hesitates for another moment before continuing. “I could tell you were upset. You started saying that you wished...that you wished we had never met. That I was just a dumb, pretty boy who likes any girl that will give me the time of day…” Keith suddenly has no air in his lungs and can’t remember how to get more oxygen back into them. He closes his eyes, digging his nails into the skin on his bicep. He’s such an idiot. No wonder Lance refused to be around him after that. Keith took out his anger on himself and Allura on Lance. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out. Guess I should’ve immediately added that right after you said that...you started crying. You told me that you didn’t mean any of that, that you’re just hurt and heartbroken. I remember the shock I felt, the way my heart started racing. I asked you why you were hurt and why you felt heartbroken. After you let this heart-wrenching sob, you told me ‘because I love you, you dense idiot! I’ve been in love with you for years!’ and I couldn’t handle hearing you talk like that. I had Hunk and Pidge pick you up and I tried to go back to my date but I couldn’t. I just kept thinking about you, whether you’d stop crying and if you’d be okay. Allura ended up being able to tell something was worrying me, so we mutually canceled the date and I left.” 

Keith opens his eyes again and stares at Lance, finding Lance’s face flushed red. “You left?” he breathes, realizing that he figured out how to get the air back. Lance nods and looks down at his fingers as they start to play with each other. 

“I left to go see you,” he further explains. 

“To see me?” Keith brilliantly replies. He just can’t seem to stop questioning everything Lance is saying, mainly because he can’t believe it. Lance nods as a smile comes to his face, a small chuckle escaping him. 

“Yeah. I got there just as Hunk and Pidge were trying to drag you inside. I told them I would handle it and carried you up here.” He stops and lays his hand on the bed, rubbing the soft material of Keith’s bedding between his fingers. Keith gulped a bit, looking to where his tan fingers touch his covers. 

“That was nice of you. Thank you,” Keith awkwardly supplies when Lance suddenly stops talking altogether. 

“You kissed me,” he says suddenly, slowly turning his head to look at Keith. Keith’s jaw completely unhinges at this. He somehow remembers that, but he thought it was just a dream. It felt like a dream because from what he remembers, Lance actually—

“And I kissed you back,” Lance whispers, almost seeming to read Keith’s mind. The details after that are kind of foggy though, so Keith eagerly waits for him to continue. “And then you...started touching me,” Lance confesses, looking away from him again with an even darker face. 

“Oh god. I am so sorry. I—” 

“And I liked it, but stopped you because you were drunk and could barely talk right. I knew you weren’t in your right mind to be making decisions like that,” Lance cuts off his apology, his eyes becoming a bit hooded as he says the first part. Keith sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, his heart stuttering to a stop before going into overdrive. 

“Oh,” is Keith’s brilliant reply. 

Lance chuckles and brings his hand up to summon Keith over to the bed. Keith feels as if he’s experiencing an out-of-body experience or Lance is using magic to summon him over. When Keith sits down next to Lance, Lance turns to face him and takes his pale hands into his tanned ones. 

“I’m sorry I ignored you for a while. I was just trying to figure out where to go from there. I never even really knew I liked guys until you came along, so I was a little confused,” Lance explains with a warm smile. Keith squeezes his hands and gives him his own smile. 

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay,” Keith reassures. 

“You know, I thought of something on my way here. I realized that you’re like a shining star,” Lance says suddenly with a bigger smile. 

“What?” Keith asks with a little laugh, making Lance laugh a bit too. 

“Yeah! You know, you keep going through this pattern of being happy, something happening, you become emo, and then you’re happy again,” Lance vaguely explains, only confusing Keith more. 

“You’re not making any sense, you know,” Keith says. Despite this though, Keith is still smiling at Lance. 

Lance laughs more before supplying Keith with, “Sorry, I’m a big space nerd. Um, so stars right. They are bright and glowing, filled with life. Then, one day, they start to derail before blowing up. That matter though is then used to help form and create new stars. Do you, um, see where I’m going with this?” Lance’s face is suddenly getting hotter the more he talks and this only makes Keith’s smile stretch out further. 

“Yeah, it makes sense. I’m also quite the big space nerd as well,” Keith says softly, not realizing that he’s started to lean closer to Lance’s face. 

“I know. That’s one thing I love about you,” Lance confesses, his eyes dropping down to Keith’s lips. This makes Keith stop in his tracks though. 

“You love me?” he asks, completely shocked. 

“Well, duh. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here, you dumbo,” Lance teases, pulling one of his hands free to flick Keith’s forehead. Keith scoffs and uses his own free hand to return the favor. 

“Just shut up and kiss me already,” he snaps with squinted eyes. Lance didn’t need further instruction to do just that. He swoops forward and smashes his mouth against Keith’s, making both of them grunt. It was messy and sloppy, but it was the best thing ever to Keith. He couldn’t get enough. 

MASTERLIST

More with Klance

[dindjarindiaries]

Mandoctober - October 2: Foundling

summary: After discovering the child’s people are gone, Din grieves on behalf of the family both he and his foundling have lost. (based on an old ask from @kiwi-the-first​)

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of death

rating: T

word count: 1.379k

mandoctober masterlist

october 2: foundling

It’s been a hard adjustment, to say the least.

Recently, you found the place where the child used to live, only to discover that his people were gone. You don’t know how or why, but you can see that the little village is in ruin—and you and Din agreed that the place was likely torn apart due to the search for the baby. You now have to take the baby in as one of your own permanently, which you of course don’t mind—but feel a hurt in your heart on behalf of the baby never getting to know his true people and family.

Din hasn’t been the same ever since. You assume it’s because of his stress to find somewhere to settle down, now, trying to make sure you both stay safe—regardless of the fact the threat to the child has been eliminated—as he selects a place where you can find a permanent home and let your family thrive. Din’s been quiet, even more so than usual, and his eyes lack a fraction of their usual light. It breaks your heart, and even though you’d like to know exactly what’s going on with your riduur, you don’t want to push him to a breaking point. He holds you tight enough at night to assure you that it’s not your fault, whatever it is.

For now, you’re still residing in the Crest, gathering materials that you can use for your future home whenever Din finds the perfect place. You’re confident he will—though he insists he won’t leave you out of the decision. These are the times when he’s the most active, as if he’s throwing himself into this search as a distraction. It worries you, but at the same time, it makes you wonder if that’s truly the reason why he’s been acting differently.

One night, you wake up to the sound of faint whimpers coming from the hull, where the baby’s sleeping. You frown, not even looking to Din’s side of the bed as you slyly crawl out and make your way down. When you get there, you prepare yourself to ease the baby back to sleep, knowing he’s probably suffering after facing the loss of his family.

But then, you find him swaddled and perfectly asleep in the arms of Din, who kneels on the floor of the hull and swallows down a strangled cry. The glow of the lights coming from various parts of the ship reveals that his cheeks are stained by tears. It was Din you heard—and your heart just about shatters inside your chest.

“Ni ceta, ner ad’ika,” Din mumbles in a heartbreakingly broken voice as a trembling hand brushes over the sleeping baby’s forehead. I’m sorry, little one. “Ni ceta. I don’t know why the galaxy has done this to both of us, but—,” Din pauses, whimpering again as he stumbles on his words, “—at least we have each other, right?” 

The sobs Din’s welling up in his throat are practically audible, and you find yourself fighting tears as you watch the scene. Your shoulder rests against the ladder as a hand covers your mouth, and instantly you realize what’s been bothering Din: he’s had to watch his own son go through the same exact thing he did.

“I will always be your buir, verd’ika,” Din goes on, his voice hauntingly hushed yet emotional as he speaks. “I’ll never leave you. Ori'haat. We will never leave you, ner kar’ta.”

Your heart just about plummets into your stomach as you watch the scene. It all pieces together: Din’s silence, his struggle, his lack of light—he’s been grieving for the child. He’s reliving his own experience and can’t stand the fact his adopted son is going through the same thing. Even if the baby doesn’t truly understand what’s happening, Din does, and his wound is still raw even after all these years.

Din stifles a cry and keeps letting the words spill from his lips. “I love you like my own, ad’ika. I always will. I… I will do everything it takes to be here for you. To give you the life you deserve.”

You can tell Din’s reaching his breaking point now, so you finally decide to step in. You swallow down your own emotions to stay strong for Din, watching as he looks up at you with eyes so full of pure grief and sadness that you nearly fall to your knees in despair. You ease the child out of his arms and rest him back in his pram, and as soon as you turn and kneel down to face Din, he wraps his arm tight around you and buries his face in your middle, sobbing into the material of your tunic.

“Shhh,” you coo softly, brushing one hand soothingly through his hair as the other supports his back. “I know, Din. It’s all right. He’s all right. I’m here, ner kar’ta.”

It doesn’t take long for Din to calm down—he’s never liked to cry, anyway, as much as you’ve encouraged him to. You never stop your comforting movements, though, wanting to make sure he’s all right as he comes down from his emotional high. When he looks back up at you, he rests his chin upon your middle, his dark eyes still full of grief as he looks at you. “He didn’t deserve to lose his family,” Din whispers, his voice still a whimper in his sadness. “He didn’t deserve to go through what I did.”

“He didn’t lose his family,” you assure Din, your voice soft as you ruffle your hand over his hair. “We’re the only family he’s ever known, Din. And he’s never going to lose us.” Din blinks a few times at that, and you watch the realization appear in his eyes at your truth. Still, you go on. “I’m so sorry you had to lose your family, Din.”

Din’s brow furrows slightly at that. “It’s all right.” His words are a haunted whisper, slowly getting stronger but still making your chest ache. “There’s no shame in being a foundling. I just…” Din pauses and takes a shaky breath, looking back to the pram for a moment before he turns back to you, “... I just don’t want to see him in pain.”

You keep running your hand over his head. “I know. But, pain is a part of life, Din. It’s hard to watch the ones we love suffer through it, but we get to be here to support them and love them no matter what. I’m sure our son is going to understand that.”

Din nods once. “You’re right.” The wrinkle in his brow begins to lessen as he repeats part of your words. “Our son.”

You smile at him and nod. “Yes, Din. Our son.” You remain in silence for a moment, observing his gaze as it begins to change slightly in front of you. You can’t identify what it is, so you decide to question him yourself, yearning to know how you can make him feel completely at ease. “Do you need anything, Din?”

Din shakes his head slowly, smiling in a bittersweet manner as he squeezes his arms a little tighter around you. “I have everything I could ever need right here, cyare.” He presses a kiss to your middle. “Ner aliit.” My family.

You keep smiling down at him, reaching for the sides of his face to pull it to yours in a brief yet sweet kiss. When you pull away, you add one on his nose, something you know will never fail to make him smile. “But you also need sleep, riduur.” Din chuckles softly at that. “Come. We can talk more about this in the morning.”

Din doesn’t hesitate to take your hand as you both stand up, and he holds tight to it the rest of the night as you ease him back into the state of love he’s yearned so long to experience—and yearns for his son to feel, too.

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